


Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Nopennamesleft



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, M/M, not a fluffy story, not really that dark, simi dark with fluff, what is a group of zombies called?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopennamesleft/pseuds/Nopennamesleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck.  He saves a werewolf from certain death.  Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boring Back Story

Who would have known that becoming a fashion accessory my sophomore year in high school would save my life? I hadn’t meant of come out, it was a slip of my friend’s tongue but by the end of the day the whole school had heard the news. I was sure that my high school career was over except for the fact that Lydia, the most popular girl in school, took me under her wing.

Any popular girl that has ever watched a reality show knows that the most important must have accessary aside from a poodle the size of a pocket book, is a gay best friend. Tuesday I thought my life was over and by the end of Wednesday I was at the top of the high school food chain. Long live the king.

Thanks to three years as Lydia’s constant companion I knew more about high heels that any man should know, how to French braid hair, the best way to fix a chipped manicure, and thanks to the whole Hunger Games craze, how to shoot a bow with surprising accuracy. Up until that last horrible day I thought it would be my newly formed fashion sense that would help me survive in the big bad world and not my archery lessons.

Life is just full of surprises.

As a teenage boy I had seen all the zombie movies, from the old slow moving shuffle of the black and white shows to the lighting fast gore fests of present day. In all of them there is a rag tag band of survivors that join together to fight the evil dead. Real life wasn’t quite like that. We all just locked ourselves indoors while the cops, then the National Guard, and then the army tried to stop them. 

But you can’t stop a virus that had already been spread and by the end of the month the damage had been done. No power, no water, no food…life went to hell pretty quick at that point. If the zombies didn’t get you, your neighbors down the street would. 

My dad and I tried to leave the city with a small group. We made it almost to the outskirts of town before we were attacked. I wish it was zombies, I think that would make the nightmares not quite so horrible, but it was a human gang that waylaid us. Dad did his best to hold them off and give the rest of us time to escape. We waited deep in the forest that lined the highway for days before the group lost hope. I held out for another week, slipping into town at night to look for him. Bodies don’t stay out on the streets for long these days. They either turn or are scavenged but I looked anyway until even my hopes were gone.

You lose track of time fairly quickly when you are on your own, fighting to survive on a diet of rabbits and the occasional scrounged bit of stale food but it had to have been around my second week on my own when I heard the news. At the juncture of every road, at the foot of each mileage sign, people had begun to build little shrines, leaving messages for lost love ones, pictures of their missing and rumors and information to share with other travelers. 

News of the Others became prime reading material at the message shrines. As if zombies weren’t bad, I mean REALLY bad, we had to deal with the coming out of the supernatural population as well. It seems humans aren’t the only intelligent life on this planet and the Others don’t like us very much. They emerged now that humans were no longer such a powerful force to walk in the open once more. Vampires, werewolves and other creatures of legend were not only real but carrying a fairly intense grudge against normal humans.

So here I am; I’ve learned to survive by keeping away from the main roads, living off small rodents that I wouldn’t have touched with the end of a broom stick four months ago, and sticking as close to running water sources as I could. I was surviving the zombie apocalypse…barely.


	2. All Good Deeds Are Punished

The rabbit scampered away before I had a decent shot, startled by the sudden commotion further into the forest. I dropped to the heavily leafed floor and did my best to conceal myself from any prying eyes. I’ve learned the hard way not to go rushing to the rescue these days. When playing white knight it is important to check all your possible exits, count the number of bad guys, double check for hidden traps or reinforcements before charging in to save the day…if there is still someone at that point to save.

It is also important, when investigating a strange noise, to know what you are dealing with. Are you are dealing with a few straggling zombies or a mob of the undead? Is it a group of humans trying their best to survive? They require even more caution. So far I’ve seen more death from human hands than I’ve seen from zombies and Others combined. It’s also important to know if you are dealing with an Other. All three situations have the same response: running. It’s just a difference in the speed and distance you need to move.

Staying low, the fall foliage giving me minimum cover, I shifted closer to the sounds. The trees cleared, giving me a decent view of the low lying bog where the stream had started to dry out. The werewolf was huge, at least seven feet tall. I’d seen werewolves before, off in the distance, but they had all been mostly human seeming. This wolf was completely furred, long muzzle flecked with foam, his hands ending in wicked razor tipped claws. 

He was stuck, the muck almost chest deep, surrounded by four zombies that were tearing chunks of his flesh out from where ever they could reach. Others couldn’t be turned, the zombie virus had no effect on them but I couldn’t imagine a worse death than being eaten alive.

The wolf was beautiful in a terrifying, ‘he’s going to eat my liver’ way. Ebony fur that held blue highlights in the afternoon sunlight was speckled with mud, saliva, and blood. Glowing red eyes flashed as he tried to lunge his way out of the sludge, fighting for his life against horrible odds.

I’d had the unpleasant opportunity of seeing what happened when a zombie got hold of a person. During that first horrible day my friend had been pulled under a wave of zombies as I watched in horror from the safety of the balcony I had franticly climbed just moments before. Gagging and sobbing, I watched as the undead tore him apart with sickening moist crunches and ripping tears until they moved on, leaving nothing but a bloody smear and a few stray bones behind. 

Two of my remaining five arrows were buried in the skulls of the zombies before I even realized I had strung my bow. The remaining turned toward me with an eerie movement, a swing of their head, lifeless white filmed eyes tracking my position before their bodies rotated as well. Even free to run away and not trapped in the muck I looked like easier prey than the wolf.

I ran for a low branched tree, pulling myself out of range of bony hands and virus laced teeth as I drew another arrow out of my quiver. The ebony wolf used my distraction to rip off the head of the closest zombie while my arrow took out the last one through its left eye. I stayed high in the tree as I caught my breath, climbing up a few more branches while I looked for other dangers. Below me the wolf continued to thrash helplessly in the mud.

If I was smart I would have retrieved my arrows and ran, good deed done for the day but I am a helpless white knight, doomed to get myself killed by trying to do the right thing.

I dropped down and timidly approached the massive wolf. I kept my head lower than his and my eyes downcast, treating him like the trapped wild animal he was. “Easy big guy. I’m not going the hurt you.” God, I felt like an idiot for saying that and from the way the wolf stiffened, back going ramrod straight, I had just offended a seven foot tall, razor tipped, killing machine.

A cluster of three packs rested just outside the edge of the bog, obviously thrown there by the stuck wolf. I took a quick look at the contents spilling out the top: basic foods stuffs that had my mouthwatering, extra blankets, a tarp, and a three filter top canteens.

It’s funny where your priorities end up when the world is over and done for. Something as simple as dry goods and a canteen had me questioning whether I should leave a person to die a slow death and take off with his packs or do the right thing and lose out on what could very well mean the difference between life and death for me. The canteen was the type that could filter water automatically without it needing to be boiled. Starting a fire these days was like setting off a “come eat me beacon”. I had to walk a careful line between needs (not being zombie kibble) and wants (not dying of cholera).

Being a good guy is going to get me killed one day. Careful to stay out of reach of the clawed hands, I pulled my arrows out of the zombies. The two that I managed to fire through an eyeball were salvageable but the third was cracked along the shaft.

“Damn it.” That left me with four arrows. I had been careful, retrieving all my shots and protecting my arrows at all times but their constant use was taking its toll and if I didn’t find some replacements soon I would be looking at lean times to come.

Walking back to my tree, I rifled through my own pack pulling out a length of bright yellow nylon rope. Tying one end to the tree closest to the bog, I tested its strength by swing and bouncing on it with all my weight. I picked up one of the filter canteens and looked at the trapped wolf who growled, eyes flashing a red that rivaled the gates of hell as I touched his possessions.

“I was thinking we could make a trade. I trade you this rope for your filter canteen. I can see you have others in you pack so I am sure you can do without this one.” I knew I was being a suicidal idiot but I couldn’t’ just leave the wolf to die of thirst or be eaten by the next roving band of zombies. 

The wolf’s only reply was to snap and thrash helplessly against the heavy mud. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” 

Tossing the rope to the wolf I waited until I was sure the wolf would be able to pull himself out of the thick mud. Once the giant, and completely naked, wolf was half way out of the bog, I turned tail and ran, switching direction as soon as I judged myself to be out of the line of sight. I backtracked twice, splashing through a stream and wading along its shallow edge until I couldn’t stand the chill of the water and climbed out, hanging from a branch to obscure my tracks.

The last thing I needed was a pissed off wolf tracking me down and eating me in the middle of the night. The world had gone to hell and all good deeds were sure to be punished.


	3. My Crappy Luck

I kept moving throughout the night, keeping a careful eye on the path ahead of me as well as the path I had just traveled. Hefting my pack higher I check over my remaining arrows in the quiver. I started out with a set of twelve but had steadily lost them over the last four months even with my being careful. I lost the first one to carelessness while outrunning an overweight zombie wearing a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron. Two were stuck in the fleshy hindquarters of some angry deer. I had since learned that venison was not going to be on MY menu anytime soon. I’d lost another four to bad shots against the occasional zombie and my last one was broken saving a very muddy werewolf.

But now I was down to my last four arrows and if I didn’t become more careful and stop trying to be the hero I would be eating much longer. Pickings were getting slimmer.  
Winter was approaching and the small animals that I subsisted on were becoming harder to find. The mustang grapes, dew berries, and other wild fruits had long disappeared and the few towns I dared enter had been reaped of any usable goods.

I tried to avoid towns at all costs. I had to be truly desperate to pass into a town’s more structured areas. My last trip into town, while successful, had almost cost me my life.

Like many towns these days, it looked deserted. Cars were left where they were abandoned in the street, some with doors flung wide open others with windows smashed it, the crusted brown remains of what once were bloody streaks tipping the jagged shards. I worked my way slowing into town, taking my time to look for zombies, Others, or even humans. Except for the occasional plastic bag whipped up by the wind, the town seemed empty. I entered the first small grocery store I came to, Molly’s Mart, looking for anything that had been left behind.

The store had been stripped down to the metal shelves. After checking for escape routes and looking for traps I checked and double checked every nook of the store. I was just about to leave, dejected and empty handed that I heard the soft rustle. In the movies zombies always make a moaning sound as they walk. In real life they are almost utterly silent. There’s no breathing, no heartbeat, no body twitches to give them away. If not for the plastic grocery bag twisted around its foot, I would not have seen him in time.  
As it was I barely had time to scramble to the top of the empty shelving unit, the highest point just inches out of the zombies reach. I struggled to keep my balance as it clawed and savaged the shelf. Placing a shoeless foot on the lowest ledge the zombie stepped upward pulling the whole section off balance and I toppled forward. 

My luck is fairly crappy. Nothing good has happened to me and yet I seem to survive. If I was still a glass half full person, I would say it was good luck but regaining consciousness with a zombie pinned an arm’s length away, jaws clicking and snapping at you just doesn’t feel anything closely related to ‘good’.

I did find four round canisters of salt that had rolled under the selves. I gathered them quickly and headed back to the road. Salt was a needed commodity these days and had a growing trade value. If my crappy luck held, these containers could help me survive the coming winter.

The close knit trees and tangles of brambles forced me onto a small two lane road so that I could continue. Roads are dangerous. Zombies traveled them in roving herds; mindless in the direction they traveled but deadly if they came upon a person unable to out run them. Not that zombies were incredibly fast, they only moved as fast they could run while still alive but they never tired and could track a person until they collapsed from exhaustion.

I felt exposed on the open road, as if I was being constantly watched. It was a cold icy feeling up my spine but it could just be the dropping temperature. Cresting a small hill I found myself face to drooling face with my worst nightmare: zombies. They were eating the carcass of a deer and as one turned toward me, alerted by the startled exhale that slipped past my lips. 

Oh, SHIT!

Turning on my heel, I ran for the trees knowing that losing them in the dense forest was my best hope of surviving the day but the sides of the road were lined with deep runoff ditches and the forest was lined with a tangle of undergrowth that blocked my way from entering the safety of its shadows. I was forced to keep to the road, running full out until I came to a small turn off, more of a dirt driveway. Hoping for a small miracle I turned down the lane only to find myself practically running over another zombie after the first bend in the lane.

Could my luck get any worse?

I pulled my dagger from its sheath, stabbing toward its putrid eye, as it pulled my down, teeth snapping inches away from my face and neck. I managed to drive the blade deep into its eye but was trapped under the weight of his body. Struggling out from under the weight of the massive man, I was grabbed by the next zombie. Stabbing wildly, I lost my blade as I twisted to avoid the bite of the next shuffling corpse as it came toward me in a mindless rush. 

Pressing my bow against the teeth of the next one, I was barely able to keep it away from me as its hands clawed into my shoulders ripping the fabric of my shirt and skin. I couldn’t hear the others moving up the lane but I knew they were on their way. All I could think was that this was how I was going to die, alone in some backwoods. I didn’t even know what state I was in. 

God, I hope they eat me down to the bone. I don’t want there to be enough of me left to turn.

I could see the mob heading my way over its mottled shoulder. The closest was a female with the bottom of her jaw torn off only her upper teeth jutting out, what was left of her tongue dangling down her neck. Behind her came a large man, one eye completely eaten by carrion crows and the other was hanging loosely from its socket. At least two more followed behind. I gave a despairing heave knowing I had mere seconds before I would be overwhelmed by their numbers.

A blur struck the group from the side pushing them out of my view. I continued to struggle with the one on top of me but I was getting weaker by the second. My diet of mostly starvation broken occasionally by a half cooked rodents had made me weak. Adrenaline only lasted so long. Mine was almost out.

Yellow teeth strained downward making my bow creak with the effort to keep them away from my body. I turned my head so that the zombie’s drool didn’t drip into my mouth. Yeah, I was seconds away from death but that was just gross. Thick saliva slithered down the side of my cheek but it was the smell that would haunt my nightmares. If I lived long enough to have nightmares. Thick and cloying, it caught in the back of my throat so that I could taste it as well as smell the putrid scent.

I caught a scant glimpse of claws; the light gleamed briefly off their tips as they snaked out from the side and ripped the head off the zombie. Its body dropped on top of me with a suddenness that knocked the breath from my chest. I pushed at the dead thing, or would that be really dead thing, dumping him off as I turned to face my savior. 

It was the black wolf from the mire. His fur was mud free, ruffled gently by the wind but his eyes were still crimson red and his jaws were huge, dripping with saliva, foam and pieces of zombie. Panic took over and I ran, leaving my pack and bow behind as I fled back toward the road with a werewolf on my heels.

I was almost back to the asphalt road when the wolf slammed into me from behind. I skidded across the gravel, my hands and chest taking most of the damage as the large werewolf ground me under his body. His teeth surrounded my neck, the lower jaw’s teeth resting on the left of my neck and the upper teeth against my right, sharp fangs pressing into my pulse points. When he growled it traveled causing his teeth to vibrate against my delicate veins, tearing a high frantic whimper from my throat.

It was probably only seconds but it seemed like years. The wolf pressed against my back, his teeth just a mere skin’s breath from tearing my throat out, if not my whole head from my body, and my brain was helpfully supplying that at least I wouldn’t end up as a zombie.

Which apparently I said out loud because the werewolf chuckled. He chuckled! He lifted up, his weight shifting until he just straddled my lower body, his knees framing my hips and his body resting against the back of my thighs.

“Running from a werewolf is like waving a red flag to a bull. It just gives us a target.” His voice rumbled, deep and guttural, the sound only slightly mangled as his tongue worked around sharp fangs to form words. 

“You know the whole red thing is just a myth. Bulls are color blind. You could wave a bright purple paisley blanket at them and it would have the same effect. And in case I haven’t been clear on my stance on being eaten, please don’t. I’m sure I taste awful. I’m thin and bony and would make a horrible meal.”

“I’m not going to eat you.” He stood up, completely naked except for the fur. Thank God there was lots of fur. Moving back down the road he retrieved my packs and my knife before turning back. I slowly pulled myself up, brushing the gravel gently off my bleeding hands. The wolf walked past my, pulling the handle of my pack over his shoulder and cleaning my knife on the fur of his leg.

Seizing my bow and arrows, noting with disgust that I had broken another one in the struggle, I followed the wolf back toward the small, two lane road.

“Hey, that’s mine.” I called out to his back.

The werewolf turned with what must have been a smile on his muzzle. It wasn’t a friendly look. “I thought we would make a trade. Your life,” he motioned toward me with a clawed hand. “For these.” The wolf held my pack up so it swung slightly back and forth. “I think that’s fair. Don’t you? I could have let the zombies eat you and then take your pack once they left. If you don’t like this trade I can rectify your status as a living creature, if that’s what you want.” He took a slow step in my direction.

“Nope,” I bleated as I quickly backed away. “That’s a totally fair trade. No rectifying of my status needed. I will just be on my way.” Holding my bow and quiver close to my chest, hoping that the wolf wouldn’t decide that he needed more for his trade, I hurried to the asphalt road and back up the hill. Once past the remains of the deer, I broke into a run and kept running until my lungs screamed for air and my legs buckled beneath me. Finding a rusting drainage pipe covered by a tangle of dying vines, I curled into a small ball and hoped that I was out of sight from anything traveling the road that might be looking for a human snack cake. The tears came unbidden and I let them fall as I fell into an exhausted and uneasy sleep.


	4. Sharing the Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is desperate when he comes across Peter. Peter is more than willing to take advantage of it.

The next morning I woke to the chill of morning frost covering my body.  As I shivered and shock I called myself all sorts of names:  idiot, fool, soon to be dead if I didn’t get my head out of my ass because I had put my red hoodie in my pack.  The one taken off by a giant werewolf.

At least walking warmed me up a bit.  By the time the sun was high in the sky I was sweating a little and panting with thirst.  There were no signs of streams or rivers and the runoff ditches were bone dry.  Back in the real world before everything went to hell in a zombie flavored gift basket I never thought about water, was never truly thirsty.  

Twice during the day I saw bunnies eating grass off the side of the road partial hidden by the shade of the trees but I missed both shots.  I survived that last desperate fight with the zombie but he might have ended up killing me anyway.  My bow was cracked throwing off my shots.  Even if I learned how to shoot with the skewed aim, the crack was clear warning that my bow would not be lasting much longer.

Fighting down the urge to wail I started mentally calculating my chances of survival and planning my best options.  A human could survive for three days without water but three weeks without food.  So finding water was a priority. Staying on the road seemed my best chance but itt looked like I would have to brave entering a town in order to restock my nonexistent supplies.

I trudged alone until the sun was dipping down below the horizon throwing long shadows across the road.  I jumped at every crackle of leaves and whistle of the wind through the forest.  With my vision limited by the fading light and no safe hiding spot available I was more vulnerable than I had been in a long time.

I smelled the smoke long before I saw the flickering light of the fire.  Fires and smoke were a blazing “come eat me” sign so whoever started this one was either sure of their safety or in a group big enough to fight off whatever came their way.  Whichever could mean my salvation or another round of ‘run for your life’.   

I crept along, staying in the shadow and making as little noise as I could, working my way closer to the fire.  One lone man sat on a fallen log, two rabbits cooking over the pit as he ate a third.  I didn’t see a rifle or a gun so a braved a few steps nearer making sure I stayed well hidden until I was certain there was no danger.

Rising his head, the man sniffed the air, his fine features twisting slightly as he took in the scents around him.  It was at that moment that I noticed that one of the packs resting next to him was mine, the red of my hoodie peeking out of the loosened top. I was torn between quietly backing away before running for my life and continuing to move closer when he turned, eyes flashing red, and looked directly at my hidden position in the woods.

Hearing the low rumbled growl come from such a human seeming throat sent tingles up my spine.  Another shiver racked my body and I found myself hunching over as my body shook and trembled, teeth chattering against each other, and my muscles clinching with the effort.  

Desperate I sidled into the wolf’s view making sure that each move I made was slow and my hands were well away from my sides.  The wolf didn’t respond to my entrance continuing to eat his rabbit slowly, enjoying each morsel.  My stomach rolled reminding me that it had been quite a while since last I ate.  It wasn’t until I was just feet away that the wolf tilted his head upward to look at me.

 “Could I share you fire?  Just for a bit?” I hated the way my voice sounded, high pitched, panicky, and desperate.  Yes, I was all those things but I hated that I sounded that way.

“I guess I could be willing to trade a bit of heat.  What do you have to offer?”  He ate another bite of rabbit slowly, licking the juices off his fingers as he looked me over, his eyes slowly moving over my body with a calculating look.

My heart sank.  I glanced down at the pack that contained most of my possessions including anything that I could conceivably trade for a place by the fire.  I pulled out a small fanny pack that I had hidden under my shirt.  Crouching down in front of the wolf I emptied its few contents into my lap.

“This was my Dad’s pocket knife.” I held out the red Swiss Army knife for the wolf’s inspection.  My dad had given it to me a week before the world ended.  I was lucky I had it in my pocket that last day.

A seemingly normal hand morphed into a five clawed weapon in a split second.  He held it in front of my face twisting his wrist left and right. “I’m doing rather well in the sharp edged weapons area.”

Swallowing, I carefully placed the knife back in the pack and gathered up a handful of sugar packets, another rare commodity in the post zombie apocalypse society.  There were twenty of them.  I hoped the wolf had a sweet tooth.

“Hmmm.  That’s tempting but I have recently acquired a large supply of salt so I am not looking to carry around any other trading items.”

I pulled open a small hidden compartment that was sewn into the side of the bag next to the zipper.  Inside was a cloth wrapped necklace.  “This was my mother’s.  It’s the only thing of hers I had when the outbreak happened.  It’s silver.  I’m sure it would be worth something.”  

I held it out to the wolf before noting his expression; amused disbelief.  Crap, how dumb could I be?  Offering silver to a werewolf.  I guess I was lucky that the wolf seemed more ready to mock me for my mistake than take offence and eat me.

“Is that it?” His tone was bored as if having quivering boys kneeling at his feet was a daily occurrence for him.

“Yes.” I could feel the prickle in my eyes but refused to let the tears build up.  

“Then you really don’t have anything to trade, do you?”

With those words my inside froze.  I had heard the saying that your heart dropped but it was the first time I had felt it.  Like an elevator jerking to an unexpected start, the feeling of falling yet knowing I was standing still, and a sudden chill in my very soul.  It was my death knell.

 The next shudder took me by surprise twisting me downward as my muscles racked my body in their last ditch effort to keep me warm.  By the time they finished I was exhausted and my jaw was in agony from the rapid, machine gun chatter of my teeth.  Hell, I'm surprised I still have teeth and not shattered stubs after I finished shaking.

 I quickly gathered up my sad handful of belongings, stuffing them into my pack as I stood, wavering briefly as my vision tilted and I fought to keep my balance.

 Looking at the cracklings fire I racked my brain for some way I could stay in its warmth.  "I saved your life."

 The wolf looked smug.  "I saved yours as well.  We are even on that count."

 Another shiver traveled through my body nowhere near the strength of the others making me remember how a body stops shivering before hypothermia and death occurs.  You know it's a shitty day when body wrenching shaking is something you look forward to occurring.

 “The weather is getting colder.  I won’t bother you and sharing the heat of your fire takes nothing away from you.  You won’t even know I’m here.  I promise I won’t try to steal anything.  I just want to warm up.”

 I realized that my words could be taken as threatening about a nanosecond before the wolf had me pinned to a tree.  His eyes blazed as his mouth and nose elongated, becoming canine, complete with razor sharp fangs and flecks of Kujo drool.  

 "You think you could take something of mine and live?”

 “No, no.  I was just trying to say I wouldn’t be any danger to you.”  The wolf rolled his eyes starting to look more annoyed than angry. “I mean that’s obvious but I wouldn’t try anything, wouldn’t be trouble.”

 Growling the wolf let me drop, knees giving out as I tumbled to the dirt and returned to his sear.  By the time I regained my footing he was in all appearances a normal man, his wolf features once again tucked away.

 “You know you are most likely leaving me to a slow death.” I started back toward the fire thinking somewhat crazily in the back of my mind that a quick bloody death was better than a slow frozen one.  Stiles flavored popsicles didn't appeal to me.

 “Humans tend to die rather easily these days.  I don’t find myself too concerned over the matter.” He returned to eating his rabbit not even bothering to keep an eye on me.  I wasn't even important enough to register as a threat.

 I could feel the saline burn of my tears and couldn't even gather the strength to care as I begged, "Please? Please, I will do anything.”  The wolf stilled completely mouth stopping in mid chew and then turned slowly toward me.  With a casual roll of his wrist he indicated for me to sit on the log next to him.

 I sat next to the older man letting my eyes flutter close as the heat flowed into my body causing another round of shivers.  Funny how getting warm is almost as painful as getting cold.  The wolf reached over and ran his thumb down the side of my face, tracing its contours from my forehead to the edge of my chin as his fingers ruffled the hair on the back of my head.

  “Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement. Maybe some companionship.” His voice was soothing and gentle and I found myself struggling not to lean away from his touch and the warmth of his hand as my brain supplies fun and exciting images of the last time I ended up as someone’s companion.

 About a month after I started my long trip down the hell bricked road I met a trucker.  He had been friendly, talking as we traveled a short distance side by side.   I was still naive enough back then to think that people were good, that we would all be trying to help each other out on the roads and happily followed him, helping him set up a small camp.  

 His attack was sudden.  The trucker was brutal, ripping clothes and then my virgin flesh as he plowed his way into my body, taking me as he shoved my face into the muddy filth.  He finished with a pig like grunt, rolling off of me briefly but it was enough for me to scramble to my feet and run.  Blood soaking through my pants and sharp pain radiating up my spine but still I ran until I was far away from his grasp.  

 I knew I was lucky to survive that day.

 But this was different.  The wolf wasn’t forcing himself upon me even though he was stronger.  His touch was gentle as he stroked my cheek giving me time to decide.  Part of me, the part with a burning need to be seen as honorable and strong, demanded that I rise up, brush off the offending hand and storm off into the woods with my dignity intact.

 But the part of me that wanted to survive knew I didn’t really have a choice.  If I charged off into the forest I would be lucky if I survived the night much less the week.  The weather was turning colder and all I had was a broken bow and a couple of arrows.  I was so cold that I couldn’t even feel my fingers.  There would be no way for me to hunt or protect myself from predators.  If I didn’t freeze first.

I really didn’t want to die.

Nodding my head I moved closer to the wolf, the heat radiating from his body warming me faster that even the fire.  I stopped when my knee brushed the older man’s and another small shiver racked my body.  I wouldn’t have been more surprised if Santa showed up when the wolf removed his jacket and tucked it around my quivering shoulders.

Pulling a small piece from the rabbit in his hands he offered it to me, holding it in front of my lips, waiting for me to take it from his fingers.  I opened and he slid the piece in letting his finger linger against my lips.  I’m not stupid.  With the next offered bit I sucked in the hovering finger, swirling my tongue around it before chewing the small bite.  

“Oh, my.  I definitely think we can come to some sort of trade agreement.” His eyes flickered red briefly as he ran his thumb across my lower lip. 

Pulling off one of the rabbit’s legs, he handed it to me with a smile and a flourish as if to reward me for a job well done.  I devoured it in seconds, eating every last scrap of meat, even the white veiny things that I would have never touched back in back in my old life.  Once the meat was gone I sucked the bone clean and cracked it in half looking for the last bit of marrow that might be inside.

I was sucking down the last drop when I noticed the wolf’s expression as he watched me eat.  It looked like a mix of shock and pity but morphed into disgust and anger almost as soon as he saw me return his gaze.  I scooted backwards franticly as the wolf loomed to his feet, eyes once again edged with an eerie red.  He just stood there looking at me, as I lay helpless at his feet, with his fist curled into his palms until the blood dripped.

“Look, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you mad.  I’d didn’t mean it, whatever it was I did.  Really, I’m sorry.”  I knew it was babble pouring from my lips but having an enraged werewolf standing over you didn’t help in the coherent conversation department.

He snarled and turned away toward the fire, picking up one of the rabbits and tossing it into my lap. “Eat.”  Without another word he changed into a half wolf form, mostly human except for the fangs and claws, and loped into the forest.

I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth or in this case a cooked Thumper in my lap. I started eating as fast as I could before the wolf decided he had been too generous and took it away.

I finished every last sliver of meat on the bone, cracking  each one to check for marrow and licked my fingers clean as I waited for the wolf to return.  After sitting for a while I took the last rabbit off the fire so it wouldn’t burn. I was sorely tempted to take a taste but knew it would most likely be my last meal if I did.  So instead I wrapped it in the foil that was tucked under a rock and placed it close enough that it would stay warm.

Curling deeper into the loaned coat I let my body slide down the log until I could rest my head against its bark.  Hoping I was safe but too tired to worry I let my eyes drift shut to catch a few minutes of sleep in the fire’s warmth.

I woke as he lifted me like a small child, carrying me over to the waiting sleeping bag to push me under the warm covers.  The wolf banked the fire and buried the wrapped rabbit beneath its coals.  Making a last trip around the perimeter of the camp, he lifted his nose to catch any scents then slipped into the bag next to me.  I was shifted around as he tucked himself against my back, spooned tightly into the heat of his body.  One arm wrapped itself around my waist as he draped a leg over my hips.

I laid perfectly still as the wolf’s breath tickled the top of my head.  I struggled to keep awake as his heat chased away the rest of the cold.  Finally as I felt the wolf  fall into an easy and deep sleep, I let myself relax.  I didn’t dare move in fear of waking the wolf, but after what seemed like hours I let myself drift off.  

A hand clutching tightly to my hip as another pawed my penis along with the feeling of someone’s hard on pressed urgently to my ass had me awake and fleeing to the far side of the fire before my brain caught up with me.  I didn’t have time to prepare myself, to push the memories of that horrible day down deep.  Just a few minutes to get mentally situated, ready to bite the bullet and I wouldn’t be sitting across from a red eyed, furious wolf.  

“So much for your end of the trade.”  He growled and started gathering up his supplies.  I sat as he packed up the camp not even bothering to look in my direction. He finished, gathered up all the packs and supplies except one canteen, the left over rabbit and my hoodie.  He left without a single look in my direction.  

I sat stunned for a few more minutes before gathering up the few things I had in my possession and the items left behind by the wolf.  My wolf had headed west.  Shifting left and right I thought about my limited options.  West seemed like as good as a direction as any.

And when did I start thinking of him as MY wolf?

By the end of the day I was exhausted.  My wolf moved quickly so I was forced to quicken my usual pace to keep him in view.  He seemed to be making it easy for me, slowing at forks and turn off as if waiting to see if the lone human would follow.  

By nightfall I was ready to collapse.  I kept going well past dusk hoping to catch a whiff of smoke or see a fire twinkling through the trees but there was no sign of the lone wolf.  I gathered pine needles and branches, wedging them against the trunk of a larger tree and made myself a small shelter.  It was itchy and uncomfortable but held the little warmth I had inside.  

Knowing there was really no one out there listening, I said a prayer that tomorrow would be a better day.


	5. Earthworms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is bloody and dark but its a zombie story. Just giving you a heads up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for spoonring...I think I might just be crushing on you a bit. You leave the BEST reviews and I get all southern and want to fan myself and say "oh my, you flatter me so" while sipping something minty. Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy the following chapters.

It was a miserable night.  By the time I woke and I stumbled out of my pine shelter the sun was already midway up in the sky.  I headed back onto the road, hopes of spying my lone wolf becoming slimmer as I realized how much time had passed.  Walking was almost agony, my joints were swollen and stiff, hip flaring with each step and my knees and elbows popping with each movement.  Staggering, I started westward down an empty road.

Funny how **not** having a blood thirsty monster on the road ahead made me feel lonelier than I had felt in weeks, months even.  With a sigh I took a small sip of water from my canteen, noticing that there were maybe three swallows left.  I needed to find water.  

Mentally I began to make a list of needs for my immediate survival.  Water was at the top followed by food and shelter.  My bow was a total loss and prey was becoming scarce during the colder months.  With each day getting colder I knew my time sleeping out under the stars with only a light blanket was long over.  

I had to face it:  I was screwed.

Coming to the top of a small rise in the road, the trees cleared and I saw a lone form in the distance.  It was carrying multiple packs with ease and didn’t seem affected by the cold that cut through my body now that the forest was no longer blocking the wind.  It was my wolf.

Once off the hill I lost track of him but I felt better knowing he was on the road ahead of me.  I picked up speed, jogging until I came to a battered welcome sign.  ‘Nevels: population 763’ it exclaimed.  The seven and the three were crudely crossed through along with the ‘wel’ part of the word welcome.  

I didn’t want to head into the town but desperate times and all that crap.  As I walked down the silent streets I could tell it was a town that hadn’t come to a pleasant end.  Doors were torn off their hinges, glass from broken windows frosted the streets with an icy sparkle, and large black smudges scarred the road at random intervals.  I tried my best not to look at those smudges.  Cleansing circles is what they were called, places where the infected were burned down to their crackled remains, jaws open in frozen screams.  Each gruesome victim still evident as you passed.

The streets were quiet.  Too quiet, my brain supplied with its ever helpful internal dialogue.  Cars lined the streets in a traffic jam that would never end, bumper to bumper with the doors and windows all closed.  Actually that was a little strange.  Usually the doors would be open, panicked occupants not having the time to close and lock their vehicles behind them as they ran for their lives.

You try NOT to see, which is hard when you have to keep a careful eye out for things that want to eat your face but you TRY.  I tried not to see the barricades that were overrun, the tattered and boney remains that peeked out from under a green jeep, or the half burned stuffed bear still clutched in the remains of a tiny out flung hand.  

My chest heaved with the effort to not see.

I ducked inside a small convenience store, moving cautiously as I double and triple check for signs of life, or un-life down each aisle.  Searching under the shelves that were stripped bare I found a couple of bottles of water and a small jar of peanut butter.  Behind the counter there was half a jug of delivered water that I used to fill my canteen and then drank as much as I could hold.  The container was too bulky to take with me but I hated to waste a drop. 

I continued through the town eyes peeled for someplace that I could pick up some extra clothing and blankets.  I didn’t want to enter the houses.  I had made that mistake my first few weeks.  I’m sure there were houses that didn’t have horror scenes splattered across their walls but I was not willing to take that chance.

To my left I heard a strange sound.  It was a low rustle, like dry skin being rubbed together.  I edged alone the sides of the buildings until I came to a gap containing a low wooden fence.  The fence was hastily made; mismatched pieces of lumber nailed crookedly together, a hodge - podge of left over bits.  The sound was coming from behind the fence and I slipped closer to chance a glance over the side.

There were at least twenty of them, their pallid skin rasping against each other as they slithered around the area.  Arms severed from shoulders left tendons, muscles, and sharp hints of bone trailing outside of gore soaked sockets.  Their legs were torn at the knee forcing the zombies to lurch and crawl about like earthworms.

But what made me heave an empty stomach full of acid onto the dirt was the refuse they were crawling over.  Bodies, or what was left of bodies, littered the floor of the small dirt yard.  Scraps of rope were evidence that these poor souls were tied before being lowered helpless into the withering nightmare.  

I must have made a sound.  Their eyes were filmed with dirt, faces streaked with old gore as they lifted their heads in my direction. The fence creaked and moaned as the dead pressed against it while I wiped the last of the bile from my mouth and tried to get rid of the caustic burn in my nose and throat.

When my stomach finally settled I searched the nearby house for containers, not even bothering to check for danger.  I don’t know what kind of monster would make a pit like that, throw the living in to be eaten alive but I was going to put an end to it.  I’m not a hero, there is no brave last stand in my blood but I know what is right and what is wrong.  And that hell spawned pit was wrong.

Finding a large soup pot and a length of hose I traveled back down the row of lifeless cars and siphoned off as much gas as I could gather.  It took ten trips before I was satisfied that the writhing mass of zombies were well soaked.  Using one of my precious matches I sent the whole vile mess up in a blaze.

The fire was huge, licking its way up the walls of the buildings on either side of the fenced area.  It was at that point that my logical, rational, ‘let’s not get ourselves killed’ part of my brain finally broke through my rage.  Whoever did this couldn’t be that far away and a fire this big, which was starting to spread down the street, was not subtle.  

With a last look back at the mass of zombies which had stopped moving and were truly dead, I made my way to the outskirts of town as quickly as I could.  Once the buildings started thin to the point where they no longer offered me shelter, I took off in a run ignoring the weakness in my legs from lack of nutrition and the burn in my lungs.  I could smell the smoke behind me almost like a force pushing me to faster speeds as I scurried down the road.

 I didn't even feel the hit just the strange lurch of stomach and mind as I flew through the air before slamming into the ground.  That I felt.  Before I had a chance to shake the inky specks from my vision he was upon me, pinning me to the ground with hands that were more like claws

 

"Tasty little boy came and broke our toy."  His breath was cold against my face as he loomed over me, smelling like the grave and old blood.   His teeth were razor sharp but not like fangs, sharpened along the edges like scissors.  They made a metallic hiss as he snapped his mouth closed on the last word. His body straddled mine, waving snake-like as he looked at me with eyes bleached of all color, an eerie pale white like a zombie’s lifeless skin.

 

Fingers tipped in claws that looked more like hypodermic needles sliced through my shirt exposing me to the cold air.  He traced lightly over the goose bumps that spread across my flesh.  Other hands joined his, stroking me, running nails across me, just barely stopping short of breaking the skin.  

 

Sitting back, the leader made a flinging motion and all the others stopped touching me and backed away, lurking over his shoulders like carrion crows waiting for the lion to finish his share of the kill.  One finger worked its way down my chest until it came to my abdomen where he pressed down, slicing into my skin with ease.

 

He touched a red tipped finger to the long tongue that slipped out of colorless lips, tasting my fresh blood.  At his moan of pleasure the rest moved forward to dip digits into me, coating each digit with my blood to taste it.  Within seconds I was ringed by the flock of bladed mouth freaks, their lips glossed with my blood.  

 

"What are you sick fuckers?"  They weren't human not with those teeth.

 

The leader smiled as he leaned forward scenting my skin before stopping at my rib cage where he moved back and forth, cool breath causing me to shiver and twitch.  He paused, clammy lips touching my skin in a parody of a kiss.  His teeth were so sharp that I didn't even feel the bite, wondering briefly at the red mass the he spat next to my head, until the blood welled up in the divot left behind.

 

His tongue dipped into the wound licking with delicate attention, not touching the skin just the blood.  "Shit!  You're a vampire?  It's daylight.  Shouldn't you be dust or at least be glittering in the sun or something?"

 

Hissing in delight with the taste of my blood the vampires bit again, digging deeper making the divot into a large gaping hole that filled rapidly with blood.  With a silent cue from the leader the rest swarmed me, each taking a divot sized chuck out of me and lapping up the blood like rabid cats with cream.  

 

I screamed, once, a long wail filled with pain and panic but then a darkness blurred the edges of my vision.  I was falling down a deep well.  I could see and hear the vampires but they seemed so far away.  The world started flashing like a strobe light; each flicker flash changed the view.  Gruesome vestiges of my attackers, mouths painted red with my blood, loomed over me, blocking my view of the cold pale blue sky where black birds gathered for their long flight southward.  

 

Flicker flash. And then they were gone.  The clouds were wisps high in the atmosphere, trails of cotton white against a perfect sky.  Another flicker flash and I saw my werewolf in his half wolf form crouched between me and the vampires.

 

“Leave here, Cur.  This is ours.”  They were never still, swaying back in forth, eyes darting between the wolf and me.  “Is he worth the trouble?”

 

My wolf didn’t bother with an answer, just a low growl.  Ebony hair snaked up his arms, winding like inky ribbons as his muscles surged outward.  He shifted forward, taking a single step and his body morphed, splitting the seams of his pants and ripping the back of his shirt.  One single step and the coven faced a seven foot tall wolf.  

 

Another flicker flash and they were gone.  Pity.  I would have liked to see them run.  

 

I blinked my eyes and it was dusk, the setting sun painting the skies with broad strokes of  purple and red.  There was a small blanket covering my body and the remains of a shirt tucked under my head. The wolf was leaning over me, his tongue rasping against the wounds.  I lifted my hand weakly and sort of flopped it at him.  Without pausing he grabbed my wrist and brought it back down to my side.  

 

“They have venom in their saliva. This weakness will wear off soon.”  He continued to clean my body, dipping into every cut and tracing each edge.  

 

“Wa re ou oing?”  Much like my body, my tongue didn’t seem to want to work but the wolf seemed to understand.

 

“I’m healing you.  Between this and reneging on our trade I think you are going to owe me.  I want my pound of flesh, boy.  Actually I want to pound the flesh but it can wait for now.”

 

I wanted to care, to panic and cry “no” but I was too far down the well, unable to reach emotions or fears, I could only lay back and wait until I surfaced again.

 

Flicker flash, strobe light, my life was jumping forward without my conscience mind along for the ride.  I could smell smoke and for a second I thought it was from the fire I set to cleanse the horror I had found but this scent didn’t carry the sickening sweet smell of burning flesh just wood and pine.

 

My nose itched.  Which is not that unusually but the fact that I was able to scratch it was pretty amazing considering that for the last few hours I had been imitating a crash test dummy.  I sat up slowly, closing my eyes against the slow spin.  I could hear the crackle of the fire nearby and feel the heat on my back.

 

Struggling to my feet I turned.  Across the fire the werewolf sat in a red camping chair.  Wrists resting at the edge of the arm rests, hands relaxed over the side. The dancing light added ruddy streaks to his light brown hair and the shadows sharpened the angles of his cheekbones. His eyes reflected pale orange flashes through the flames, a feral king on his throne.

 

As I walked toward him I ran my hand down my chest noticing that in place of horrible bloody sores I was covered in smooth scars, pale against my skin and oval in shape.  He had healed me.  I noticed his eyes watching me as my hand traced down my front from the scar just below my collar bone to the one resting on my hip.  I stroked myself again, this time using both hands as I came to a stop in front of him.  He was defiantly taking an interest.

 

“What you did today was rather stupid.”  

 

“They were feeding helpless people to those zombies.  They tied them up, hand and foot and dropped them in to spend their last moments in pain and terror.  I couldn’t leave it there.  I couldn’t let more people die that way.”

 

“You’re a fucking Boy Scout.  I thought the whole rope thing was a flash of mercy to stem the guilt for taking my supplies but you really are a do gooder.  How the hell are you even alive?  Naïve little shits like you died by the thousands that first month.”

 

“I just lucky I guess.”  He tilted his head back and laughed.  It was sexy as hell and didn’t I feel like I had gone completely insane by thinking that.

 

He motioned to the ground next to his chair and after a moment I sat at his feet.  His hand ruffled my hair, tugging gently when he reached the ends.  “So what are your plans, Boy Scout?”

 

“I don’t really have any plans, just some vague goals.  They are a little fuzzy.  I guess I have fuzzy goals.”  The pressure of his hand on my head forced me closer to his lap and I could see his growing interest and pleasure at having me so close.

 

“Fuzzy goals?  So what are your fuzzy goals?”  His hand clinched in the hair at the nape of my neck and I shuffled forward until I was between his knees to stop the pain.  Daring a glance upward through my lashes I could see that his eyes had become red tinted.

 

“They are simple really.  My first goal is to not die.  My second is to keep enough food in my stomach so that my belly button doesn’t kiss my backbone and last, to find someplace safe.  So far I’m not doing very well but at least I’m not dead.”

 

“Yet.”  Damn, he would have to say that.  I swallowed hard enough that he had to have heard me and by the smile that touched the corners of his mouth, he heard it loud and clear.

 

“Maybe I can help you reach your goals.  I was thinking that we could come to an understanding.  You will be my…” he paused looking skyward for his missing word.

 

“Companion.” I supplied while my brain added sex toy and whore.

 

“Yes, companion.”  He tugged me closer so that my chin was resting on his thigh.

 

“What do I get out of this deal?”  His grip tightened causing me to arch my back and whimper in pain.  

 

“Listen Scout, you get to meet you goals.  All of them.  You get to live, have enough food in your belly and I will keep you safe.”

 

I kneeled in place weighing my options; dignity and a horrible death or warmth and safety.  It wasn’t really that hard of a decision.  I was tired of being alone; tired of jumping at shadows and living in constant fear.  I pushed my past life morals aside and let my hands travel up his legs, my thumb running along the inseam of his pants until I reached his bulge.  

 

“Okay.”  I watched porn, lots of porn, so I knew what I was supposed to be doing but research and real life were vastly different creatures.  His button parted easily and the quick slide of the zipper revealed his erection.  I ran two fingers under the shaft before looking up.  The wolf’s head was thrown back, eyes lidded as he watched me, urging me forward with insistent pressure to the back of my head.

 

It wasn’t neat or fancy.  There was too much saliva and I couldn’t find a rhythm so his shallow thrusts ended up hitting the back of my throat causing me to gag slightly.  He smelled musky with a hint of green, like freshly mown grass on a lazy summer day.  Wrapping my hand around the base I tried to work it the way I had watched so many times before but fumbled nervously.

 

I sucked at sucking.

 

But my wolf didn’t seem to mind.  His thrusts become more erratic and forceful, bumping the back of my throat as he tried to get deeper.  The only warning I had was his sudden stiffening and a low huff.  I hadn’t even given thought to whether or not I would swallow but the flood in my mouth didn’t give me much choice.  I gulped franticly but I could still feel it dribble slightly out the corner of my mouth.

 

When I finally gathered the courage to look up my gaze was met by the satisfied smirk of a sated werewolf.  Reaching down he wiped a drop from the edge of my mouth and licked it off his finger.  I couldn’t decide if it was the hottest thing I had ever seen or psycho level creepy.

 

Suddenly embarrassed I pushed myself to my feet only to find myself falling back into that mental well as my vision darkened and tunneled, as if I was looking at the world through a paper towel tube like when I was a kid playing pirate.  My swaying was checked my warm arms that guided my to the sleeping bag and tucked me inside.  I should care, I should struggle and fight and be brave enough to face the lone road on my own.  I should but didn’t.  I guess I’m just not that strong.  I let my eyes drift shut and the darkness claim me.


	6. Constellations

The sugary smell of cinnamon stirred my unconscious mind just enough that I woke thinking that this whole zombie nightmare had just been, well, a nightmare.  But then the unforgiving roughness of the ground, the scent of smoke drifting from the fire and the sound of my werewolf humming Bad Romance wiped that fantasy and jolted me fully awake. "Morning Scout."  Fucking, chipper, too perky to be un-caffeinated werewolf.  I mumbled something appropriately morning-ish as I settled next to him and watched as he stirred the oatmeal in a pot.  Half a dozen instant packets fluttered at my feet in the weak morning breeze.  They were my favorite, cinnamon spice, and my stomach made itself known with a loud, long rumble. "Sounds like your belly button is making out with your spine, Scout."  His smile was warm and friendly but didn't quite make it to his eyes.  They remained calculating, as if he was measuring me up in every possible way from how many bites it would take to reach my juicy center to how bendable I was for later amusements.

I quickly accepted the tin plate of oatmeal and was scrapping the last morsel off the bottom with my fingers within seconds.  The wolf sat, spoon poised at his lips, watching me inhale breakfast.  He gingerly took my plate out of my hands and replaced it with his own, rubbing my cheek gently with his thumb as he stood.  “I can make some more, Scout.”

“Please don’t.”

It was a simple request but the wolf’s reaction was almost violent.  Dropping down he pushed forward into my space, his hand gripping my shoulder, skin pulsating between clawed and human.  Eyes speckled with fiery highlights stared menacingly into my own.  “Don’t?  Don’t what?  Touch you.  Are you backing out of our agreement so soon, Scout?”

“No,” I gulped and fought down the urge to scramble away keeping my eyes lowered.  “Don’t call me Scout.  Please.  It’s just too close.  It makes me remember and I try so hard not to think about it.  I’m sure my therapist would drone on about the importance of working through your issues but I am sure he is stumbling around somewhere eating rats raw or something so fuck him and his ideas on my mental health.”  

I could feel the memories bubbling up.  Those last few moments with Scott by my side as we fled the school yard into town.  He didn’t even hesitate when she fell, just turned back, trying so desperately to reach her before she was bit.  “All good deeds are punished these days.”

“What?”  The wolf actually looked concern.  His hand stroked my arm slowly, soothing my fractured nerves.

“My friend, my best friend.  He tried to save a girl and was killed.”

“Your friend was named Scout?”

“Scott but when I hear you call me that, it makes my skin flinch.  It hurts.”

“Okay.”  Without another word he scrapped the last of the oatmeal into my bowl and started to pack up the camp.  The bedding and blankets went into one large pack, cooking supplies and food into the second, and my shriveled pack sat between the two, the runt of the litter.

“Stiles.”  As he turned, I clarified, “My name is Stiles.”  He nodded and returned to packing.  I sat for a few moments finishing my breakfast and licking the last bits off the bottom of the plate.  “So, are you going to tell me your name or do I just keep calling you my wolf?”

I caught my mistake just a split second too late to bite my tongue and keep it from spilling out.  I expected anger from my Tarzan of the mood swings wolf but received a smile, a shimmer your pants down, can’t think because the blood has left the building, damn sexy smile, instead.  

“Peter.”  He took my licked clean plate and pulled me to my feet.  “We have a way to go today, Stiles.” He played with my name as he said it, warmed it with his tongue, tasting the constants as they left his mouth.  Stepping closer and pressing his nose against my neck, he took a long inhaled breath, held it with his body completely still, before letting it out to tickle the sensitive skin of my throat.  Yes, folks, the blood has left the building and moved south.

Peter was about ten yards away, walking with a lip biting swagger before I pulled it together enough to follow.  I trotted until I caught up with him, falling into a steady pace by his side.  He swung my pack off his shoulder and handed it to me to carry.  

It was screwed up.  I will be the first to admit that this whole thing was insane but for the first time in almost…hell who knows how many months, I felt like I was a part of the human race again.  Even if he wasn’t quite human.  I was connected.  

I tried to hold it in, stem the tide of words that threatened to overflow my tight lipped dam but before the sun was overhead I was pouring out a flood of rambling thoughts.  It had been so long since I could talk to someone and Peter surprisingly was a good and, more importantly, patient listener.

“So can you turn into a wolf?  How many different forms do you have?  I’ve seen the human, which is nice, and then you have the whole side burns and big teeth look and your super wolf form which is scary as hell.  Can you turn into a real wolf? The whole four legged sha-bang?”

“I can but it’s not usually convenient.  No hands.”

“So if you bit me what would happen?  Would I turn into a werewolf too?  Do you lose control on a full moon because that would really suck for me?”

“No, werewolves are born.  The gene is dominant so any children I had would be wolves.”  His face darkened briefly, a shadow of pain.  I had felt that look many a time on my own face.  “Do you ever stop talking?”  It was a sudden enough change from the genial wolf from moments before that I nodded and followed in silence for the rest of the afternoon.  

By midafternoon I was starting to droop.  Peter made much better time than I ever had unless I was running for my life.  “Can we slow down a bit or better yet, stop completely.  I’m exhausted Peter.  Helpless little human and all that.”

Peter stopped and scented the air.  “Keep heading in this direction and I will check ahead for a place to stop.”  Handing me the rest of the pack he shimmied out of his pants and shirt.  I should have looked away but my brain went foggy when he tipped his ass up to pull off his shoes.  The man was salivatingly hot. 

Glancing at my wide eyed, slack jawed look, Peter smiled and for the first time since we had met it reached his eyes.  “You wanted to see my wolf form.”  I expected high budget movie effects, bones popping as muscle and tendons reshaped themselves; agonizing howls as fingers became claws and fangs erupted from a newly formed muzzle.  Instead he shimmered briefly, skin twitching as he curled inward.  Fur spread upward across the smooth plains of his body as he stretched forward going onto all fours and rolled his shoulders.  

Turning my direction I could see his ears take their final form and his tail ruffle into being.  I expected him to be the same inky black as his seven foot monster wolf-man form but he was a toffee color, his longer guard hairs tipped with rust.  He was breath taking.

He walked over to me tail wagging slowly as he approached.  I dropped to my knees and found myself burying my face in the soft fur along his ruff.  My fingers tightened into the dense hair along his shoulder, scratching him lightly as he waited good-naturedly as I pet him.

Feeling silly I pulled back.  Peter grinned at me, all teeth and bannered tail.  “Yes, you are gorgeous but you already knew that.   I always wanted a dog but Dad was allergic.”  The wolf grin dropped off his features and his ears flattened slightly in annoyance.  I just laughed.  “Go on; find us a safe place to hunker down for the night.”  

Watching him lope away I had to wonder about the weirdness of my life.  How desperate was I that I found myself latching on to the first kindness offered in this hell bent world.  Gathering the packs I shrugged off the worry.  Yea, Peter was a little creepy and a werewolf but I was really starting to like him.  As I continued to walk I found myself humming a familiar tune.  

Peter caught up to me a short while later a limp bunny clasped in his jaw.  He dropped it at my feet and shifted back while I did my best not to look.  “It’s all clear.  There’s a good place to set up camp about a mile ahead.”  He grinned at me, a human version of his wolf’s toothy smile.  “So which form impresses you the most?”

Human I thought but kept that locked inside my skull.  “They are all beautiful.”  Crap that was even worse than what I was thinking.  “I mean, the wolf forms are very attractive.  Not that your human form isn’t.”  Red spreading from the tips of my hair follicles, across my face and down my neck, I turned and started walking.  “A mile?  We should make it before it gets dark.”

I could feel his amused gaze on the back of my neck like sunshine; warm and inviting.  Back before the end of the world I had this NEED to fill empty silences with babble and empty conversation.  I don’t know if it was because I had become accustomed to the silence from being alone for so long or because it was Peter walking by my side but for once the quiet didn’t bother me.  

I set up camp while Peter cleaned the rabbit.  He huffed as he tossed the entrails far away from the camp site.  “A waste.”

I paused from straightening the sleeping bags, my thin summer bag tucked inside Peter’s heavier one with the slick tarp tucked over and under making it look like a giant green taco.  “What’s a waste?”

“That’s some of the best parts.”  I must have turned a little green, making a matching set for our taco bed, because he quickly added, “I would eat it in my wolf form.”

I didn’t quite believe him but I wasn’t about to judge the eating habits of the furry and deadly.  Cutting the meat into strips, Peter had the rabbit cooked before the moon worked its way across the sky seeming to spill stars in its wake.  

“I don’t remember there being this many stars in the sky.”  I nibbled warm pink rabbit as I stared at the heavens finding half remembered patterns of light from my childhood camping trips with my mom and dad.

“Light pollution.  The cities were too bright, washing out all but the brightest stars. You used to have to travel miles into the country in hopes of seeing a sky like this.”   He pointed out constellations, telling the legends and myths associated with each one as the fire burned down to red veined coals.  

I drifted off with his warmth at my back, the soothing feel of him tucking the sleeping bag around me the last memory of the night.

 

 

 

 


	7. Good Boy

Over the last six months, give or take, I had woken up many a time with “oh shit” as the first thought to cross my mind.  “Oh shit there’s a rock in my ass”, “Oh shit it’s raining”, and “Oh shit that zombie is about to eat my face”, were common mental phrases for me.  

“Oh shit, that’s a hard on” was not.

Now if it was Peter’s I would have gingerly removed myself from the sleeping bag and started breakfast while he pretended to sleep.  Aside from lingering touches and checking out my ass whenever I bent over, Peter had been a total gentleman after that first night even though he has made it perfectly clear that he plans on fucking me at some future point.  But this wasn’t Peter’s, this was mine and I had no idea how to handle it.

Okay, I knew HOW to handle it but not without the super sexy werewolf listening in on me and I can’t deal with that right now. I laid there trying to think un-arousing thoughts.  Fake teeth, shriveled little old men, the periodic table, nothing was helping.  Strangely enough thinking about the Periodic Table made it worse.  I could slip out of the bag and work my way into the woods but that would just change the location not my growing problem. Which had reached painful proportions when Peter stirred behind me.  "I know something bad happened to you but you can't be afraid to touch yourself." "Oh. My. God."  And if a cold dose of embarrassment couldn't take care of my problem then only a hands on approach would. Peter's hand rested low on my hip, circling slowly as he pulled me closer into his embrace, sliding his opposite arm under me until I was resting the back of my head against his shoulder, leaning with him as my support.  I hissed as he ran the heel of his hand from my hip down to my thigh, applying just enough pressure to make my toes curl. Fingers trailed lightly up, following the same pathway until reaching my hip once more, returning to their hypnotic circles.  I felt myself sway in time, back as his hand moved over my hip fingers brushing my abs the forward when his hand moved back thumb grazing the upper curve of my ass.  
  


I caught his hand with my own, holding it loosely but I didn't know what I wanted.  Peter waited, still and patient at my back while I fought against memories of pain and fear and the needs of now.  The needs of now won hands down and I was pushing his hand down my pants, arching to give him the room needed even as my brain made the bad pun connection.    "Peter," I managed to keen.  He was warm bordering on hot as he pumped, wrist twisting on the up stroke.  Without lube there was not the slide I had when doing this in the privacy of my bedroom but when he ran his thumbnail over my slit, adding another twist, I was coming harder than ever before.  He held me through the shudders whispering, "I've got you", as my body quivered.  I expected him to demand his turn as the last aftershock rocked me, to remind me of our agreement and how well he had kept up his end of the deal.  Instead Peter spooned me closer placing a light kiss on my neck before settling back to sleep.  Body sated I couldn't help but follow his example.

By the time I woke up Peter had packed the camp except for the sleeping bags and my breakfast that was left warming at the edge of the fire.  “Let’s go sleepy head.  We need to resupply today.  We’re going to town.”

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach.  Peter was all smiles and excitement and I was about to have a panic attack.  “I haven’t had the best luck with towns.  Last time I almost was eaten my vampires, remember?  And the time before that I was literally six inches from being bitten by a zombie.  I really, really don’t want to go to town.”

Peter let me eat my breakfast as he rolled the bedding and strapped it to his pack.  Kneeling behind me, he placed a warm hand on the back of my neck.  “Do you think I would let anything happen to you?”

“No, you haven’t gotten your toy prize yet.”

Sighing, Peter smacked me lightly on the back of the head and took my empty plate.  “Get your prize in gear.  Unless you want rabbit for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we are going to stop at the next safe town.”

“Safe?  How can you be sure it’s safe?”  Peter didn’t even bother answering, just tapped his nose and headed back to the road.  Bitching about bossy werewolves I grabbed my pack and jogged to catch up.

It was a beautiful day, cold as the ninth circle of hell, but beautiful.  The sky was clear blue with just a whisper of clouds high in the atmosphere.  With the ground eating pace Peter set and the lack of wind, I was almost comfortable.  Flocks of small black birds flew overhead in tight formation creating miniature clouds with their sweeping patterns and sudden changes in direction.  

“It’s probably going to snow by the end of the week.  We need to think about finding a place to hole up for the winter.”

“I’ve found that it is safer to keep moving.  They can’t hurt you if they can’t catch you.”  Peter looked over his shoulder with a knowing eye.  He slowed until he could walk by my side and throw an arm over my shoulder.  

“That was before you met me.  I’ll keep you safe.  Like you said, I haven’t gotten my toy prize yet.”

“Asshole.” I brushed off his arm but found myself smiling at his antics.  “Where would we stay?”

“There are a few towns that have been settled a little south of here.  I shouldn’t have any problem finding us a room for the winter.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it will be a snap.  Humans are so trusting these days, they are just going to throw open the doors and let us right in, no questions asked or firing lines needed.”

“I never said they were human towns.”

“Fucking ape shit, you have got to be joking.”  With a smirk, Peter lengthened his stride, pulling ahead and ending the conversation.

Knowing I was safe with Peter on the lookout, I found my rhythm.  There comes a point in walking where your body just moves, it doesn’t feel the strain, the sweat, or the panting of your breath, you just move one foot in front of the other in almost a dream state, brain on autopilot as you go.  I could cover miles that way.

Peter shattered that rhythm as he forced me into the tree line, covering my mouth with his hand and my body with his own.  We lay there, leaves tickling my flesh where my shirt and jacket had ridden up as Peter scented the air.

“I need you to stay here.  If you hear gunshots I want you to run back the way we came.  Don’t stop, don’t come back.  I will find you.”  Red eyes stared down at me as he gripped my chin for emphasis.

“I understand.  But is it’s dangerous shouldn’t we both just turn back?”  I reached out and caught his hand as he stood.  “Peter, is this necessary?  I don’t want you dying when we could just head over to the next town.”

It started out as his patented smirk but quickly slipped into a true smile.  “Worried about me?”

“Pfttt.  No.  I’m just getting used to you and your grossly inappropriate comments about my body.  Plus, I’m getting used to eating on a regular schedule.”   Peter rolled his eyes and turned to go but I caught a flash of hurt before he could hide it.  “This morning was nice.”  I whispered softly knowing he could hear me.  “Please be careful.”  He didn’t turn but nodded his head before loping down the road.  

As a kid I loved hide and seek.  I was the king of hiding, curling up in the smallest areas, finding the best places where no one would think to look and staying silent and still, which considering my ADHD was a feat in itself, long past everyone else being found.  Hiding as an adult, well an almost adult, was not as much fun.

The uneven breeze sent twigs scrapping against leaves and bark at irregular intervals.  Dry leaves hanging limply on brown branches rustled and crunched.  Even with the cover of dead leaves the ground quickly sapped the warmth from my body and I shivered in the falling temperature and my growing fear.

Peter in his full wolf form came barreling back to me, skidding in the leaves as he came to a jolting halt, pressing his nose into my exposed neck.  I’m sure my scream sounded manly and brave.

“Damn you Peter.  Are you trying to give me a heart attack?  God you scared to living crap out of me.”  Peter pushed his huge head into my arms as if asking for forgiveness and I couldn’t help but hold him close.  Golden brown fur tickled my nose and I found myself snuggling closer to his warmth.  “So are we safe or should we be running for our lives?”

Peter responded with a lick from my chin, up my nose and into my hair line. “Thanks, I’m going to take that as a ‘we’re safe’.”  Peter just wagged his tail and trotted off toward the packs to change.  

Peter’s not body shy and I found myself unable to look away as he shimmered, fur becoming smooth skin in one continuous flow.  He was built like a swimmer, powerful chest and arms with well-defined abs.  His ass was firm and rounded in all the right places, all of which tapered down his long … “Are you enjoying yourself?  Want me to turn around?”

I buried my face against my tucked knees in utter mortification while Peter finished getting dressed.  I’m sure I was blushing hard enough to glow.  Humming a burlesque tune, Peter finished getting dressed before dropping down to the ground next to me.  

“You don’t need to be embarrassed.  I like that you want to look at me.”  Checking my need to pull away, I forced myself to stay at his side.  “You need time.  I know that Stiles and I am giving it to you.  I’m not going to jump you because you are checking me out.  Okay?”

“Okay.” I mumbled to my jeans.

With a smooth motion he stood bringing me to my feet at the same time.  His playful banter dropped away as we started down the road.  Keeping close to my side he sent a number of worried glances my way.  

“Are we in danger?”  Hanging out with a werewolf must be contagious because I felt like my hackles were rising.  “Damn it Peter, you need to tell me.”

Peter stopped, looking down the road while I waited.  “There was a road block up ahead.”  Road blocks were the future of highway robbery.  Groups would lie in wait at a blind spot in the road waiting for a car or group of unwary travelers.  I had been close enough on occasion to hear the begging and final screams; survivors were uncommon.

“Was?”

“Looks like they took on something they couldn’t handle.  The road is safe but not clear.”  He paused on the word clear, giving it a grim weight that could only mean a bloody end to somebody.  “As we get closer, I’ll take us around the worst of it.”

“I’ve seen death.  I’m not a child you have to protect.”  I didn’t want to see it but the idea that Peter was babying me stung.  Insulted I pushed ahead, striding down the road in a full snit.  Okay, hindsight is twenty/twenty and all that; I should have listened to Peter.

I smelled it long before I could make out the charred husks of cars and trucks lying on their sides like downed beasts.  Carrion crows rose squawking into the sky as I approached revealing sights I wish I could un-see.  I didn’t throw up or cry but it was close on both counts.  I followed mutely as Peter detoured off the road and went around the rest of the blockade. 

The trees thinned and the small town came into view.  It was picturesque, nestled in a small valley, a small white church with a bell tower rising up from the center.  After the carnage we had passed it was like looking through to an alternate universe.  Beauty didn’t belong so close to death.

Entering a town knowing that there would be no deadly surprises was an unexpected pleasure.  Peter managed to bypass all the gruesome scenes while leading me quickly to the necessary items needed for our travels.  While Peter scavenged for food in a nearby house, I found the mother lode of winter ware at a small second hand store with boarded windows and a broken door.  

A heavy winter jacket, mittens, a warm hat with bear ears to annoy Peter rounded out my outer wear.  I stuffed my pack and a hot pink Bratz backpack full of jeans and shirts.  

“I’m a werewolf, not a pack mule.  I think you have more than enough.”  Peter leaned against the broken frame, backpacks bulging at the seams. 

“We could get a shopping cart.  Load it up so that we have plenty of food for our travels.”

“Mmmmm.  And what happens the first time we have to run?  Having too much makes you a bigger target than looking weak.”  I knew he was right but after having so little for so long I was loath to leave it behind.  I was the kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar because he grabbed too many cookies and refused to let them go.  Seeing my mulish expression Peter smiled, “We can eat until we are little round pigs tonight.  Here!”  With a smile he tossed me a candy bar.

Leaving our packs in front of the library where Peter decided we would spend the night, we split up to look for other needs; thicker sleeping bags and a tent.  I turned down an oak lined street.  I was half way down, checking the houses and garages for camping items when I heard it.  A slight movement ahead and the click of nails on pavement had my heart pounding with adrenaline.  

Crouching, I readied myself to run, hips twisted away from the noise.  A patchwork face of browns and blacks topped with a single floppy ear popped out of the yard ahead of me. His pink tongue dangled out the side of his mouth as he tilted his head inquisitively.  “Woof.”

“Hey, who’s a good boy?”  My question was met by a flurry of over active dog.  His tailless rear gyrated widely making his back legs dance as he bounded toward me.  Stopping a few feet away from me, he pranced in place darting back and forth, licking my hands and fingers whenever in range.  I stroked his floppy ear and ran my hands down his prominent rib cage.  Under the mats his fur was soft and silky.

It had been a while since I had been able to pet a dog, not counting Peter.  In the terror of those final days mankind had left his best friend behind to fend for itself.  In turn, dogs had formed feral packs, hunting both four legged and two legged prey.

With a canine smile the dog lead me further down the street stopping every few steps to see if I was following.  If I slowed he would quickly return to my side, rolling so I could reach his cotton white tummy before bounding away once more.  “Maybe you can come with us boy.  You’re a good boy,” I crooned to the dog each time he returned to my side.  “Such a good boy.”

The dog pushed its way into a yard.  The house was a baby blue trimmed in white with a wraparound porch complete with a swing.  I was laughing at his antics on the porch when I saw it; saw them.  No zombies had done this.  Old bricks crusted with dried gore gave testament to the evil that is man.  The dog trotted to my side, nuzzling the limp remains of his family.  

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t get past the pressure and pain in my chest.  The chanting of “Oh, God, Sorry, sorry, sorry” registered vaguely as my own voice.  Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision.  I dropped to my knees and held the dog close.  “Oh, you are a good boy, good boy, good boy.”

Peter found me later hacking away at the cold earth, trying to dig a grave for the dog’s family. He didn’t say a word, just cupped my head gently pulling me against his shirt where I left a trail of dust and tears.  Taking the shovel from my hands he deepened my hole as I watched crouched next to the lonely dog.

“I’m going to see if I can find something to warp them in.”  The hole was deep enough that Peter’s hips and legs were hidden from view.  The door to the house was unlocked and opened without a squeak.  The inside was cheery which was so wrong.  No place should look so inviting when there was THAT right outside the front door.

Dog followed me inside and immediately ran down the hallway, turning into the first doorway.  It was a boy’s room.  Dinosaurs covered it, from the T-Rex themed bed spread to the curtains over the window.  Nosing around under the bed the dog pulled out a well chewed purple, longed necked dinosaur, a dinosaur that was an exact match to the one resting on the pillow in the center of the bed.  I took the cover and stuffed toy before hurrying back out.

Peter took the cover out of my hands and wrapped the bodies.  I hid my face in patchwork fur, breathing in the smell of dog, earth, and happier days.  “Should we say something?”  The last shovelful of earth had been patted down.  Peter shrugged before tossing the shovel onto the porch.

“We don’t know anything about them.”

“Their dog loved them and he like dinosaurs.”

We stood in silence; I tried to form words as my emotions tumbled within me but I remained mute.  Peter just waited while I worked it out.  “Can we take him with us?”

“Do you think he will come?”  I tried for the rest of the evening to get the dog to follow me back to the library.  He would follow happily until the end of the street and then slip back to his house to lay his head on the fresh grave.

The next morning Peter helped me load up bags of dog food and dump them on the porch.   “It might be best to put him out of his misery.  When we leave he will be alone with only a cold grave for company.”

“Peter, no.  Please, don’t do that.”

“He’s lost all that he loves; maybe death would be a kindness.”  Something in the way Peter looked as he said that gave me pause.  

“But he has a chance.  Alive there is still a chance that he will find someone.  Someone who needs him and that would love him.”  I touched his arm, worrying at the hollow stare in his eyes.

Peter turned to look at me, head tilted and a strange look on his face.  He didn’t argue, just nodded and filled a large tub with water for the loyal dog.

Hugging the dog one last time, I whispered in his ear, “You are such a good boy.”  Wagging his tailless rear he followed us until we reached the end of the street.  Sitting he grinned as we continued on.  I kept hoping that he would come running after us, barking as he leapt into my arms but when I turned one last time he was already heading back home to watch over his family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about this chapter. It seemed better in my head. Oh...well....


	8. Good Boy Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a one shot about what happened to Good Boy after Stiles and Peter left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I can’t believe how many review I received for Good Boy. So many of you told me how sad you were that Good Boy was left behind. Some people cried…okay, I’m one of them. But that many reviews has to be rewarded… SO….here is a one shot about Good Boy after Stiles and Peter left.

He lay with his head pillowed on the rich earth.  No longer the curve of newly turned soil, it was slowly flattening out and becoming flush with the rest of the yard...  Good Boy could still smell the scent of Boy deep beneath to layers but it was fading.  Sneezing he pulled the Stuffy closer, shaking its long neck before tucking his nose into its soggy side.  

Hearing the scamper of little feet he tilted his head toward the porch and watched a squirrel scurry across the wooden flooring toward his pile of food.  He panted for a second, deciding if he wanted to chase the little ball of fluff away but in the end didn’t feel the need. 

He didn’t mind sharing with the squirrels.  They were fun to chase through the yard and they chattered at him from the branches above.  Good Boy didn’t even mind sharing with the few cats that came creeping out of the shadows, bellies low riding against the ground as they cast tentative eyes in his direction.    The mice were another story.  Good Boy hated mice and would ‘chomp gulp’ everyone he could catch.

The food was also guarded fiercely from his brothers, the ones that had slipped from their yards during the bad times, when the Bigs had shuffled dead smelling down the streets.  They had forgotten the warm hands and belly rubs.  They had done the unforgivable; they had become bad dogs.

Feeling lonely, Good Dog trotted into the Bigs’ house.  Those first few days after the happy one opened the door he had spent afternoons laying on the couch, something he was never allowed to do.  But it was a cold victory.  The Female was no longer there to chase him off calling him “Silly Puppy” and flapping a towel at him.  

Good Boy made his way into Boy’s room, jumping on the bed and tucking his nose deep under the pillow where his scent was still strong.  This had been where Good Boy had protected Boy from the night shadows that made him toss and cry out during those bad days and nights.  

Boss and Female had smelled of terror and fear, staying inside for longer than Good Boy ever remembered.  There were no walks, no playing in the backyard, and no trips to the park.  He had done his part for pack and protected Boy, staying close to his side while death walked outside.

It had become better for a while.  Boss and Female still smelled of fear but it was stale and worn.  Boy was allowed outside to play in the yard under the watchful eye of Female as if he was once again a new born puppy.  Good Boy didn’t understand but still tried to do his best.  Keeping Boy happy, feeling his small fingers dig past his fur to scratch the skin behind his ears and the funny spot on his side that made his leg kick.

But then there was smoke and angry voices.  His Bigs huddled, Boss yelling with hands raised, his body pressed back against Female and Boy trying to keep the smoke men away.  Good Boy barked and growled, even doing the unthinkable and biting a Big.  The pain of the stick had been sharp against his muzzle and when he woke his family was still.

Good Boy could have slipped his yard as well, joined his brothers that hunted the shadows, but he stayed.  His Boy needed him.  So he stayed, nuzzling under the small hand, trying to cling to the smell of love.

When the Happy One came Good Boy thought that maybe he would be needed again.  There were hugs and rubs and cries of “Good Boy”.  He could smell his sadness when the family was found and the Happy One dug up the earth and pulled it over, covering them in its cool embrace.  

As he walked away Good Boy wanted to go too but could not bear to leave his family.  It wasn’t time and the Happy One didn’t need him, he had the two legged wolf to guard and protect him.  So he waited, chasing squirrels and ‘chomp gulped’ mice while the days became shorter and cooler.

He heard the voices as they came down the street, a male and female.  They spoke in the hushed tones of prey animals hiding from the hunters.  Giving his Stuffy another quick bite, Good Boy rolled to his feet and went to watch the Bigs pass by.  

The male lead the group, eyes distrustful and dark, followed by the female and her small girl child.  The girl was daisy colored and clutched her own Stuffy close to her chest while sucking her thumb.  Creeping out, Good Dog eased toward the group knowing that some Bigs no longer trusted him, thinking that he had gone bad.  

He wagged his bottom, front end bowing down with his best canine grin spreading his muzzle wide.  “Doggie,” whispered the daisy girl and Good Dog bounded over to roll at her feet.

Small fingers found all the right places, ears and belly, scratchy back and leg kicking side.  Good Dog was in bliss and almost missed the scent of tears.  Female leaned heavily against her mate, the wetness glistening on her cheeks.  Good Dog wiggled over, licking fingers to make the bad go away.  

“She spoke,” Female said hugging Good Dog close.  The male walked cautiously down the street going into his yard, his dark eyes taking in the food and the over turned earth.

“Sarah, we need to keep moving.”  He gathered his mate and child herding them gently down the road.

“Woof.”  Good Dog wagged his rear, dancing down the road behind them.  

“Good Puppy,” Daisy Girl called.  Close enough and God Boy was in her arms.  He could scent the same night shadows that haunted Boy and knew that he would do his best the chase them away.  Daisy Girl needed him and Good Boy needed a family to love.

Male thumped his leg, “Here fella,” and Good Boy pressed his nose to his side.  “You wanna come with us?”  He knew ‘come’ and wiggle danced his agreement.

As he left his street behind, new family running fingers through fur and ears he turned once to look behind.  They didn’t need him anymore.  They were safe where they rested and Good Boy had a new family to love.


	9. A Plague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you call a group of zombies?

The great cities of man were a wasteland of death.  Without mankind to keep it gassed and oiled, the great machinery of civilization had collapsed in the chaos left behind as humanity thrashed in its last agonizing death throws.  When I write my story, that’s how I’ll start it.  All poetic and shit.  This is what I was thinking about as the road widened meaning that a major city was somewhere up ahead which made me think about all the dark thoughts I tried to keep tucked down in my subconscious where they wouldn’t bother me.

“It went bad so quickly.  I thought after a few weeks that we would get everything under control, figure out a way to kill the dead, well, re-kill the dead, you know, make them stay dead.  But then it was like the world went crazy.”  I were by-could see the city in the distance its sprawling skyline visible from miles away.  

“People stopped taking care of the basic jobs that were needed to keep the cities running.  Without electricity there is no water, the sewers back up, there is no one to restock the stores and food becomes scarce.  All it takes is fear’s push and the whole tower of cards comes crashing down.  You call it the Zombie Apocalypse but it was man that did the most killing.”

“I keep hoping that it will get better, that someone will pull the pieces together and fix this mess.”

Peter turned quickly so that I plowed into his chest before realizing he had even stopped.  He caught my chin in a painful grip forcing my head up and to the left as he pressed his nose into the soft skin beneath my ear.  “You need to stop hoping for a hero, Stiles.  This isn’t a fairy tale and there will not be a happy ending.”

“Shit Peter!  Give a jungle yell or something before you take a swing on your fucked up mood vine.”  I thrashed out of his hold, ignoring the red that glowed devil bright in his eyes.  “How can you have so little hope?”

“There is no hope just a biological need to survive.”

I stared for a moment.  I knew my mouth was hanging open because I could feel the cold air on my tongue and the back of my throat.  “Someone woke up on the depressing side of the bag this morning.   If all there is to life is a ‘biological need to survive’ then why are you using so much energy to keep me safe?  And don’t tell me it’s because you are waiting to collect a debt.  You could have fucked and run a long time ago.”

With a snarl he had me pinned to the cold earth claws tearing the front of my jacket, sweater, undershirt, and top layer of skin. “You’re just a means to an end Stiles.  Don’t forget that.”

“I don’t believe you,” I whispered as I went limp beneath him as his breath trailed heat down my neck.

“Then you are a fool.”  Pushing away, Peter gathered his half of the backpacks and moved off down the road leaving me to pick myself off the asphalt and follow behind him. 

At this point I was becoming used to his mood swings, well as used to something totally unpredictable and scary as hell as I could be.  I couldn’t figure out what set them off, what I said that provoked him.  Believe me, if I knew I wouldn’t do it.  The only pattern I could distinguish was that they tended to happen when I thought we were doing well.  Just when we seemed to connect, to be becoming more than just a deal of mutual need he would go all wolf shit on me.

I knew he was just as damaged as I was.  I could see the empty hole left in his soul from losing a loved one.  Okay, I couldn’t really see it but something like that leaves a mark and I know what to look for.  Peter had that in spades.

For most of the day he didn’t speak to me.  His silence broken by the sudden warning of, “Shit, move your ass,” which can’t be considered conversational gold but it was still better than I had before Peter came roaring into my life.  I watched the zombie mob shuffle by from under the cover of Peter’s warm body as we hid in the curve of a broken drainage pipe.  He crouched above me, bent knees position over my hips, left hand clawing the soil by my head while the other traced soothing patterns on my back.

I don’t think he even realized how gently he was touching me.  It was like his brain wanted to treat me one way and his body wanted to treat me another.  And I’m not just talking sex, his mind and body agreed on that, but something deeper.  I wasn’t about to call him out on it, dealing with internal werewolf issues was likely to get my innards relocated to my ‘out-ards’.  Yeah.  I’ll pass on that.

“What do you call a group of zombies?  Herd?  Mob?  Mambo Line of Death?”  We were stuck while Peter sniffed out whether there were any stragglers on the road before we moved on.  There is only so long I can lie in one place with a sexy werewolf pressed against my ass and not do something stupid.  At this point it was a shitty attempt at conversation or wiggling my butt backwards to see what he would do. 

“Shut up Stiles and keep your ass still before I fuck you into the gravel.”  Like I said something stupid.  

Once the road was clear Peter let out a long breath against the back of my neck before nipping, holding the skin through my layers of clothing for just a second before releasing.  It sent the good kind of shivers down my back.  At some point I was going to hold Peter to MY end of the deal.  

He still wasn’t talking as we started down the road but he stayed by my side as we walked instead of ranging far ahead and his fingers brushed my own every few steps.  Bumping shoulders I gave him my best goofy grin.  “You didn’t answer.  Herd o’ zombies; mob o’ zombies.  What do you call it?”

“A plague.”

“Yeah, you really lightened up the party back in the day, didn’t you?”

“Shut up Stiles.”  He said it with his trademark smirk but the smile was back in his eyes.  Mood swing officially over.

That evening snow started to fall in large flakes.  I skipped ahead trying to catch them on my tongue.  It rarely snowed back home, the few times it did the snow would fall night and I would wake to a white covered yard that crunched pleasingly under my feet.  But I had never seen large flakes like this, floating down from the sky.

“Do you think there will be enough to build a snow wolf?”

Peter shot me a sideways glance, the one that was part amusement and part disbelief.  “It probably won’t stick.”

Peter set up camp while I played in the falling snow.  By the time he had unfurled the small tent, started a fire and heated the left over rabbit in with a packet of stew mixings, I was half frozen.  He sat behind me, wrapping my body in a double layer of blanket and werewolf warmth.  

Finishing my rabbit stew I let my bowl rest on the ground as I turned to snuggle deeper into Peter’s heat.  I pressed a kiss to his jaw, breathing in the spicy scent that seemed to deepen at his pulse points.  Shifting his weight, Peter brought me closer, tilting his head to capture my lips in a light kiss.  

I was left blinking as he pulled away.  For our first true kiss it was practically virginal.  Letting out a short huff of air through my nose, I was just about to make a snide comment when Peter leaned in and invaded my mouth.  He licked his way in, sucking my tongue and tracing patterns upon patterns as he found each sensitive spot and assaulted it.  He pulled back, nipping my lower lip briefly before diving back in.  I was breathless, clinging to his shoulders as I tried to keep up with him but in the end I just let the master take the lead.

“Damn, you would pick the day it snows.”  Peter grumbled as he half carried me to the tent, my body wrapped around his, pressing and grinding against him, not wanting to let any space come between us.  The tent was small and the giant burrito of a sleeping bag didn’t leave us much room to get our cloths off.  I was a tangle of pant legs and sweater sleeves until Peter helped.  Using what seemed like nothing but his tongue he had me out of my pants in less time than it took me to form a coherent sentence.  

“Peter, right there.  Touch me there.  God Peter.”  Okay, maybe not coherent.  My hips thrust wildly against him searching for friction to relieve the building pressure.  He kissed my exposed chest, grazed his teeth along my jawline before kissing the wonton cries from my panting mouth.  Gripping both of us in his hand he rubbed us together, his hips finding the rhythm mine had been searching for.

His free hand tightened on my shoulder as Peter pushed himself up giving him the room needed to twist and grind us together until I was begging with need.  Panting cries of pleasure and soft mews of need filled the tent as Peter finished me off with a last quick pull.  I shuttered and clung covering the bits of Peter I could reach with staccato kisses.

“We need a bed.”  

Peter chuckled against my shoulder. “We need a lot of things but a bed would be nice.”

Using his shirt Peter cleaned up the mess before moving me into a comfortable position and spooning behind me.  “I don’t mean to piss you off.”  I couldn’t help but worry that I would do something that would drive Peter away.  I was becoming dependent on him and the trials of the last few days had cemented in my mind just how close I was to death when he took me under his wing.  Another week or two on my own would have been all I could hope for.

“Not your fault Stiles.  Go to sleep.  We’ll be entering Other’s territory sometime tomorrow.”

Rolling so I could rest my head on his shoulder, I asked sleepily, “How can you tell.”  His answer was lost as I fell asleep in the safety of his arms.

 


	10. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles head into town.

I could tell the moment we entered the land controlled by the Others from the way Peter started to move.  His body always had a fluid component to its movements, a glide to each step that held a grace that I could never hope to match.  But at the westward fork of the intersection, Peter became so much more.  His muscles seemed to bunch and roll under his skin, his pewter eyes reflecting more red tints than before.  Every step he took screamed ‘beware, deadly menace’ as he prowled down the road.

Peter paused at the beginning of a small bridge to look over the railing at the water that churned slowly beneath him in the shade.  Funny, the rest of the river ran smooth until that spot and smooth afterwards as well.  It was too shallow for rapids and I joined Peter at the rail to look at the abnormality.   Bodies seemed to weave under the water, creating tight knots of smooth flesh and skin.

“What is it?”

“What makes you think I would know?”

“Well, duh, you’re a werewolf.”

“I didn’t believe in vampires until you managed to piss off a flock of them.  It’s not like the non-humans kept in touch throughout the ages.  I know about as much as you do about all the Others out there.  I’m just trying to keep you from being eaten.”

“Peter, you really need to work on your comforting speeches.”

“How’s this,” he smiled as he pulled me into a toe curling kiss.  “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I give the speech a C+ but extra credit for the visuals.”  Chuffing softly Peter pulled me closer, resting my head against his shoulder as he ran his nails across my scalp.  “You are a smart ass, you know that right?”

“It’s better than being a dumb ass.”

“Some days I miss the times where you were too scared of me to talk.”

“Yeah, that whole first twenty minutes had me shaking in my boots.”  My banter was cut short by Peter’s palm blocking any sound from escaping my mouth as the tall grass rustled ahead, parting to reveal four amber eyed men.  “Shiiiitttt.”  Peter’s hand did little to block my exclamation. 

I had a lovely view of Peter’s thumb as it became clawed under my nose, the tips of each finger’s claw etched their way across my skin in the first stage of Peter’s shift.  His muscles rolled and popped against my back moving upward as he shifted into his wolf man form.  Pushing me behind him, he stepped forward to meet the wolves at the center of the bridge.

“Alpha.”  As one they exposed throats, a sideways roll of their head and tilt of the chin.  “This is a gathering place.  Those that seek violence are encouraged to look elsewhere.”

“I seek shelter from the season of death, a warm place to den for the cold months to come.”  Peter’s voice was gravely as he enunciated each word around the mouthful of fangs.

“Do all Others talk like they’re extras from a bad knight in shining armor movie or is it just the werewolves?”  Funny, I could almost feel Peter’s eye roll but I was otherwise ignored.

After talking briefly the wolves blended back into the tall grass, giving directions in the same stilted speech pattern that had me shaking my head in wonder.  I would tease, without mercy, the first person who used a ‘thee’ or ‘thou’ in my presence.  Well, my presence and Peter’s.  I wasn’t stupid.

The town had once been a tourist hot spot.  The main road, which was cobbled in smooth river stones, lead straight to the town square.  Peter stayed in ultra-wolf man form as we walked down the street, his red eyes staring down any that ventured too close.  I bit my tongue on my initial urge to make comments along the lines of “how do you expect to make friends if you scare everyone away” but after seeing what the town had to offer I was fine with Peter looking like the scariest kid on the block.  

The werewolves were easy to spot and the most numerous.  Each one that Peter passed would tilt their head, eyes flashing briefly amber or blue.  One came out of a small store and walked right into Peter’s path.  I kept my smile to myself as it fell backwards on the sidewalk exposing both his throat and belly to Peter.  After that it seemed that all the werewolves found it best to walk on the other side of the street.

A group of vampires perched on benches in the town square, their bodies weaving back in forth snakelike.  They moved as one, bodies in perfect rhythm that increased as we came closer.   I could feel their eyes on me and the disk shaped scars on my chest started to itch.  As if sensing that I was once a snack item, they fluttered from the benches and crossed the street to block our way.

“You have a human.”  For a sentence that had absolutely no S’s in it, they sure made a lot of hissing.  I could feel my body start to mirror their swaying motions, a tug deep in my gut that wanted to pull me toward them.  I didn’t even know I had moved until I felt Peter’s arm iron stiff across my chest, keeping me from going to them.  Shaking my head to clear the crazy cob webs I ducked behind him and pressed my face into his fur.  

In this form he smelled like fire and warm whisky.  I ran my fingers upward along his spine as he growled out warnings.  His rumble made the long guard hairs on his back vibrate and they tickled my nose until I sneezed.  

“Did you just sneeze into my fur?”

“Sorry.”

All the stores we passed fit right into my mental version of what the old west should look like:  dry goods store, saloon, café with both girls and boys lounging at the windows, and a lone hotel.  “I think we should have brought our spurs and ten gallon hat.  Shit, someone watched too much John Wayne.”

A tall man stepped out of the shadows of the small café and made his way toward us.  He reached Peter’s furry shoulder which would put him over six five.  Wearing a leather vest and no shirt, his grey colored skin was clearly visible.  I expected him to utter a “howdy stranger, what brings you to these parts” from the way he let his hand rest against his jeans, thumb tucked just inside the waist band as he ambled our way.

“Alpha,” he greeted.  “I hope we won’t have any trouble from you.”  He let his eyes roam Peter’s appearance with an air of unease.  I couldn’t blame him, Peter was something to behold and fear when he choose to walk in his alpha wolf form.  As the man took his time looking at Peter I was able to get a better view of him as well.  At closer inspection the man’s skin looked thick almost like leather and his nails were pointed and yellow tinged.  “Should you desire to sell your stock, the yard is a couple of streets over.”

I was about to open my mouth to ask what he meant by stock when I realized that I was the only human walking free in the area.  I turned back to look again at the café where the painted boys and girls sat.  Once I really looked I could see the collars and thin chains that connected them to their chairs.  Their eyes were haunted, bleak, and hopeless and I found myself clutching Peter so tightly that I must have pulled his fur.  

“Thank you but I am pleased with his services for right now.”  As we passed by the grey man his eyes never left mine or blinked.  They were the gold of a jungle cat and just as hungry.   I moved even closer to Peter getting my feet tangled in his and almost tripping us both.  I was kept from a face to face meeting with the cobbles by Peter’s firm grip on the collar of my jacket and I let myself dangle for a second until he set me back on my feet.

“If you get any closer, you will be riding in my pocket.”

“If I could fit in your pocket I would be there right now.  I am starting to think this was not a good idea.”

Peter pressed his muzzle to my forehead, his nose cool as it rested between my eyebrows.  I wondered briefly if he would bite me if I tried to pet his ears in this form but for once I caught myself before acting on my suicidal impulses.

The hotel was at the end of the main street and we managed to make it without having anymore interactions with Others.  They continued to give Peter a wide radius even as they sized me up like a juicy steak with potatoes on the side.  

“You still have that Sharpie?”

“Why?”

“I’m writing ‘not on the menu’ on my T-shirt as soon as we get a room.  I feel like one of those lobsters at a sea food restaurant.”

“I think of you as more of a delicious pastry in a bakery counter.”

“OH MY GOD.  You are not helping.”  Peter chuckled the rest of the way to the hotel.  For those that didn’t know him it must have been a terrifying sound because the streets cleared out as soon as the first amused rumbled poured out of his fanged mouth.

I sat huddled in a large leather couch while Peter negotiated a room.  He seemed to get a good deal after he dragged to smaller wolf over the counter and slammed him to the ground at his feet.  All three containers of salt were thrust into the babbling urine soaked wolf and we were given a key to our room.  

A large king size bed filled the room.  Its fluffy pillows and mattress called siren like to me and I could not help but follow its sweet song.  I threw myself on the bed, bouncing playfully while Peter placed his packs in the closet and pick mine up off the floor.  Picking up the remote I punched the buttons, pointing it at the long dead TV, before mournfully placing it back on the side table.

“Looks like the cable is out.” Looking over I watched as Peter seemed to shrink back to his human form, fixing his hair as his body shifted.  Grabbing fresh clothes out of the pack he turned to me as he dressed.

“I have some books in my pack.  It wouldn’t hurt you to read more.”  Peter leaned over, trapping my head between his hands and placed a lingering kiss on my lips.  I pressed upward my leg winding its way around his knee trying to pull him down onto the bed with me.

“Later.”  Peter nipped my lip as he pulled away.  “There are some things I need to look into.  Stay here, okay.”

Not that he gave me a choice.  He was out the door leaving me behind, spread wantonly on the bed.  I read until the sun went down and it was too dark to continue.  The room was equipped with a lantern which bathed the room in soft yellow light but it wasn’t enough for me to continue reading by.  I watched the streets of the town light up with flickering lanterns and crackling fires making the shadows dance along the walls and cobbled stones. 

Peter still hadn’t come back and I was starting to worry.  Making my way down the stairs I found the same small wolf still behind the counter.  His eyes flashed amber as I approached him but other than that he didn’t seem to be a threat.

“Hi, I’m looking for my friend.  He’s the big alpha that came in earlier.  Do you know where he went?”

“He asked for direction to the yards.”  At my shocked and confused look, a cruel smile spread across his features.  “Bet you will fetch a pretty price.”

I swallowed down the ‘fuck you’ and ran out to find Peter.  The yards were empty except for a handful of humans locked in a small shed, huddled together to conserve their warmth.  I pulled on the doors testing the heavy lock before another large grey skinned man walked out of the building out of the building next to me.  I ducked and ran back to the main street franticly searching for Peter.

I caught a glimpse of his hair in the café sitting at a table surrounded by other wolves with a skinny girl straddling his lap.  I slid in the door and worked my way past the Others’, dodging pinches and slaps until I was an arms-length away from Peter’s table.  He held a large glass of a reddish liquid to his lips as he spoke to the group at the table.

“….humans burned my house down, trapping my family inside to burn.  I could hear their screams, smell their flesh burning as they died and there was nothing I could do.   I couldn’t save them and I couldn’t avenge them.  I have no love for humans.  They created this mess and they can rot in its decaying filth for all I care.”

 I backed away, horrified by what I had just heard.  My mind flashed back to the times Peter had told me I was just a means to an end.  I had thought it no more than a Peter mood swing but maybe it was how he really felt, that he was just waiting for the right time.  Maybe I had been foolishly projecting my own needs for a savior and friend while ignoring the truth of his actions.  

But that couldn’t be right.  He had always been kind and gentle.  There had been plenty of times he could have just taken what he wanted and left me.  Why go to such an elaborate scheme?

“Rumor has it you brought in a pretty morsel.  There is quite a demand for items of that nature in town.  I could point you in the right direction if you are looking to sell.”

I didn’t wait for Peter’s reply.  Panic took hold of my heart and squeezed until the breathe in my lungs turned to dust and the blood pounded in my head.  I flew back to the hotel tears half blinding me causing me to tumble on the uneven road skinning palms and knees as I went.

Slamming my way into the room I grabbed my backpack and dumped all but the most necessary items out of it into a pile on the bed.  I pulled the tent out of the closet as well as my canteen and half the dried food.  I didn’t dare take more, I wasn’t even sure that Peter wouldn’t kill me straight out for taking what I stuffed into my pack for breaking our deal again.  

But we didn’t have a deal; he was just leading me along until he could find a use for me.  Use me as a way to avenge his family and feed his hatred of my kind.  I wheezed, feeling the first stages of a panic attack nipping at the edges of my awareness and I struggled to fight it off.  I hadn’t had an attack since I was fourteen, not when the zombies walked the streets of my neighborhood, not when the world went to hell, and not when I lost everything that I loved to a bloody mob on the outskirts of my home town.  I wasn’t going to give into it now.

Panting, my fist clenched at my sides, I stood in the middle of the room and tried to gather my fluttering thought together long enough to form a plan, a way to escape this town and Peter before he decided to sell me off as some sort of plaything or, worse yet, meal.  Dashing the tears from my cheeks I picked up my pack just as I heard Peter’s key turn in the lock.  Shit!

I tossed the pack to the foot of the bed and shoved it under with my foot as I sweep the rest of my clothing onto the floor just as Peter walked in the door.  Seeing the quizzical eyebrow raise in my direction and suspicion forming in his eyes I knew I had to do something to distract him.  He’d fucking kill me if he knew or just sell me to one of those grey skinned bastards.  Oh, Lord, I would never survive as one of those monster’s playthings.

 “Stiles?  Why is your heart rate so erratic?  Did something scare you?”  Peter leaned against the door blocking any chance I would have of escape.  His body was relaxed, arms loose by his side and feet crossed at his ankles.

My brain was stuck on “distract, distract, distract” and I jumped at the chance to divert his attention from the pack that was sticking out from under the bed in a not so subtle way.  Two steps and I was pressed up against him.  A slight tilt of my head and just barely up on my toes and my lips were pressed against his in a frantic kiss.

At first there was no response from Peter which had me panicking even more because, shit, this was the wolf who used any and every excuse to maul me and touch me and here I am throwing myself at him and he doesn’t even move.  I was just at the point where I was thinking that my goose was cooked when he returned my kiss, deepening it and completely taking over.  

Peter’s mouth was amazing.  The man could kiss.  If there was an Academy Award for kissing he would win it hands down.  And his hands were down, down my back, down my pants and cupping my ass as he brought me closer to his body.  Damn, what am I supposed to be doing?  Right!  Distract, distract, distract!

Pulling back slightly I risked a quick glance into Peter’s eyes.  The pupils were blown wide but I could see the mental calculations still going on behind the lust.  Shit, I needed a better distraction.  Quickly, before I lost all courage, I dropped to my knees, hands skimming down his sides and resting at his hips.  Pressing my face into his lower abdomen I swallowed my nervousness.  Survival, I reminded myself.  It was about survival and so far Peter had been my best chance of living to see my twentieth birthday without becoming zombie kibble or some were’s pet on a leash.

I nuzzled and mouthed the growing bulge before risking another glance upward to see if my advances were completely welcomed.  Peter’s head was thrown back, his lips parted with a silent “oh” that amazed me.  Realizing that I had stilled he looked down.  Running my hands over his waist band I gave his pants a short downward tug before returning my gaze to his crimson rimmed eyes for permission.

“God, yes.  Stiles! Yes.” 

His pants slid easily down his hips revealing his length.  The scent of musk and spice filled my nostrils making me forget for a moment that my life could very well be hanging in the balance here.  Swirling my tongue over his tip I ran my hands lightly up the backs of his legs until I reached his firm ass then pulled him to me as I sucked him down.

And then gagged when I took him in too deep.  Looking up I expected to see Peter smirking at my novice attempts but was met with eyes blown wide with lust, pupils wide and dark, ringed with a fiery red.  His hands brushed through my hair tugging me forward and I bobbed my head going a little deeper with each downbeat as I cupped and massaged his balls.

“God, Stiles.” Peter groaned, pulling me to my feet and into another kiss.  “What has gotten in to you?”

Without breaking the kiss I slowly tugged him back toward the bed until I felt the mattress behind my knees and I let myself drop back, spreading my legs in invitation.  “How do you want me Peter?”  I sounded slutty and desperate but then I WAS desperate.  Desperate to stay with Peter or desperate to escape from Peter clashed in my jumbled thoughts.

“I want you to ride me, your head thrown back and the only sound leaving those delicious lips of yours is my name as I pound up into you until you come from riding me alone.”  His eyes have gone completely crimson and I pushed myself further up the bed, removing my shirt and pants as I made my way toward the headboard. 

“Okay, I can do that.  I can do anything you want Peter.  Anything you want.”  I had my pants down to my ankles and then Peter was pressing down upon me, forcing me deeper into the mattress as he kissed his way into my mouth, his hand holding my head at the perfect tilt so that he could have the best access to my depths.

I lost all sense of purpose; it was just Peter and the waves of pleasure and need that he sent swirling down my body with each nip of his teeth and stroke of his tongue.  I mewed, lifting my head off the bed to follow him as he broke the kiss but Peter had me pinned to the bed, both my wrist bound in the grasp of one of his hands. Seeing his pissed expression quickly cleared my lust soaked brain.

 “Okay, you are going to tell me what the hell is going on with you and I want the truth.”

“Nothing is going on with me.  I just wanted to kiss you and touch you.  I didn’t think you would be against it.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Crimson eyes flashed in warning as Peter’s voice deepened to a growl.  “Don’t ever lie to me.”

“Sorry.  Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What has gotten into you?”  Peter paused and looked more closely at me, his face leaning closer, tilting one way and then the other.  He sniffs my skin starting at my neck and working his way down my body, nose dissecting and cataloguing each scent. “You came down to spy on me.   Exactly what did you hear?”

“Wasn’t spying.  I just was worried about you. “

“Hmmm.  Lucky you’re feline DNA free.  What did you hear that has you so afraid? I don’t like you being THIS afraid of me.” His head shot up as he realized exactly what I must have heard.

Frantic babble poured from my mouth. “I know you want me Peter.  I can see it in the way you look at me and touch me.  I can make it good for you.  Just give me a chance.  Don’t let those guys have me.  Please Peter.  I’ll to everything you want me to.”

I was going to add more.  Racking my mind for every porn movie I had ever watched to think of positions I could tempt him with, ways I could pleasure him if he would just keep me safe, just KEEP ME.  All my thinking was short circuited when he kissed me again; it was all I could do to remember that my heart needed to beat and breath was a necessity for my continued existence.

“I’m not a nice person Stile.” His breath was warm against my ear and shouldn’t feel anywhere as good as it did.  Terrified and horny should not be dancing together hand and hand. “I haven’t been a nice person since the fire that killed my entire family.  If I was a good person I would find some nice human settlement and set you free, not remind you every day of the debt you owe me for saving your life, keeping you safe, and feeding you.  I’d remember that you are not even twenty; almost a child and that would keep me from wanting you, needing to taste you and hold you.  But I’m not a nice person, there is little goodness left in me. But Stiles, for you, I would use my last breath to keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe from all the others but I can’t keep you safe from me.”

“Oh” Really I used to be so much better with verbal responses.  “So you DON’T want to fuck me?” Yeah, because at that point it was all I could think about.  My survival instincts suck eggs.

“Hell yes I want to fuck you.  I want you in every possible way there is, I want you but I am not going to hurt you in the process.  When we do this, I want it to feel good for both of us.  Okay?”

The prickling behind my eyelids warned me of my upcoming tear fest and I turned on my side to hide my face from Peter.  I should have felt relieved that I wasn’t going to have to have sex but all I really felt was mild disappointment. Somewhere along the line I have lost my mind.  “So why where you there?  Why did you say those things?”

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my neck.  “What other explanation would they except for me traveling with a human?  I knew you would want to play hero so I checked out the situation with the humans.”

“Can we help them?  There has to be something we can do.”  I tried to sit up, pushing against Peter’s shoulder but he remained unmoved.

“Not without getting both of us killed.  I looked everywhere.  There is nothing either one of us can do. This is no place for a boy scout like you.”  The tension went out of my body.  I wanted to help but knew there was nothing short of dying or joining them that I could do.  I hated what this world was forcing me to become.  Peter seemed to understand and pulled me into a tight hug, doing his best to comfort me.

“We are leaving tomorrow before you do something even more stupid than running away in the middle of a town full of creatures that want to hurt, degrade, or eat you.  I would rather not have to kill half the Other population of this hell hole if they tried to put their hands on you. “

“Sorry Peter.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I heard you say you hated humans and I just thought…” 

“I stopped thinking of you as a human weeks ago.”  Peter tugged me until my head rested on his shoulder, his fingers lightly playing up and down my side.

Rolling my head so that I could see his face I asked, “What do you think of me as?”

“Mine.”


	11. Picking Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does something stupid. Who's surprised?

I dozed in the warmth of Peter’s body, my nosed pressed just below his chest where I could breathe in the wild scent that was uniquely him.  I’ve never smelled anyone like Peter, not that I had made a habit of smelling men in the past but I just can’t imagine anyone else smelling of wild forest and ozone after a heavy rain.  

I could tell when Peter fell deeply asleep, his face relaxed in ways that it never did when he was conscience making him look younger.  I found myself wishing I could have known him before the pain of losing his family rent his heart into jagged shards.  I let my fingers trace the line of golden hair showing above his shorts upward until it swirled around his belly watching to see if he would stir.  Nothing.  Best to let sleeping alphas lie.  

Slithering out of the bed, I quietly pulled on my pants and sweater, grabbing my tools from the pack before easing out the door.  Hoping I would be back before Peter woke I didn’t take the time to leave a note about my plans.  It was just as well, note or no note, when Peter found out what I was planning he would kill me.  Well, not kill but he would be furious and wolf out.  

And that thought should not make me as horny as it did.

Keeping to the shadows and watching for Others, I made my way to the yard where the humans were kept.  Circling the small shed twice proved that there were no guards watching and I crept over to the door.  The lock on the shed was impossible for me to break but I was hoping that I could loosen the pin from the hinges of the door and open it that way.

The broken cobble made a low thunk as it struck the screwdriver I wedged under the pin.  The metal didn’t budge but alerted an older man inside who peered through the slats of the shed at me.

“What are you doing?”  Like many humans I had met he was thin with dark hollows under his eyes. The human race was turning into a species of skinny raccoons.  We all were starting to sport the same black ringed look.

“Trying to free you. If I can get the pins out you all can make a run for it.”  The man backed away from the door, head shaking in disbelief.

“You’re insane.  They would hunt us down, hunt you down.”  Our whispered conversation woke the rest of the small group and a hushed exchange took place within the cluster.  I couldn’t catch much of what they said but “we’ll starve” and “they will kill us” seemed to be repeated at regular intervals.  

Rattling the wooded boards to get their attention I hissed, “You can’t want to stay here.  Do you want to be slaves?”  

The man, obviously the spokesperson for Slaves R Us, returned to the door.  “We won’t go.  Even if we escape and they don’t track us down, how do you expect us to survive the coming winter?  We will freeze and die.  At least here we have a warm place to sleep and enough to eat so we don’t starve.”

Shocked beyond self-preservation I half yelled, “Are you out of your mind,” before a large furred hand was clamped over my mouth.  

“I am going to start chaining you to the bed.  What in the name of all that is holy, unholy, and has half a brain do you think you are doing?”

“Setting them free,” was mumbled from beneath fur and claws but Peter seemed to understand perfectly.

“Damn Boy Scout!”  Turning to the group he asked, “Do you want me to free you?”  The lock looked minuscule in his hand as he rocked it left and right, judging the amount of forced needed to break it.

“No, our chances of survival are better here.”  Peter nodded sagely and turned, seizing my arm and dragging me back to the hotel.  He was deadly silent the whole way back, only the heavy pant of his breath hinting at the fury boiling just beneath a layer of ebony black fur.  Oh, yeah.  I was in SO much trouble.

Peter dragged me up the stairs, through the door, and tossed me on the bed in without uttering a single word.  Each time I started to say something he would glare at me with his burnt ember eyes and I found the words dissipating like smoke in the wind.  Bouncing twice from where I landed I watched as Peter rifled in his packs pulling out a length of familiar yellow rope.  

“No.  Just no and hell no.  You are not trussing me up like a Thanksgiving turkey.  No.  Peter, no!”  All my demands went unheeded and I was secured to the bed within seconds.  I should have been afraid.  I should have been furious.  Damn, I was just horny as hell.

“I know you aren’t THAT stupid.  Did you even stop to think?  The whole town would have been after us had you been able to free those people.  I wouldn’t be able to protect you from that many Others.  You would have been killed or worse.”

“What’s worse than killed?”  I wiggled experimentally with my bonds.  My hands were tethered above my head with enough give that I wasn’t uncomfortable and my legs were free.   I could feel myself hardening as Peter glared at me.

“Being taken, being eaten.  Who the hell knows what they would have done to you.”  I knew Peter was fighting his emotions because he didn’t shift back to human.  His head rolled back, the usual tell that he was about to shift but the fur and claws remained.  Nostrils flaring Peter stilled, his entire focus shifted completely to me.

“Stiles?”  My name was spoken in a reverent hush as he stepped closer to the bed.  Deadly claws caressed my leg, running pads up as Peter ghosted his nails up the inseam of my pants.  With a shake of his head he pulled away and gathered himself in the center of the room.  The rapid rise and fall of his chest let me know that I was not the only one affected by this little bondage scenario.

“You need to promise me you won’t try that again.  You can’t save everyone Stiles.  If you keep trying you are going to get yourself killed.”

“But not trying makes me feel that I am dying on the inside, that I’ve let this horror win.  Peter, I just can’t give up.”

Peter stepped toward the bed his fur smoothing to perfect skin as he reached out to cup my chin and place a fang free kiss on my lips.  “I’m not asking you to give up; I just need you to pick your battles better.  Okay?”  

“Okay,” I mouthed against his lips.  Lifting up I tried to reach him to deepen the kiss but he pulled out of reach and pushed me over to the side of the bed, crawling in beside me.

“Go to sleep.  We are leaving tomorrow before you get yourself killed.”  Rolling over he threw a leg over my knees and rested his head on my chest which was a new sensation. 

“You can un-tie me now.  Peter, un-tie me.  Really you can’t expect me to sleep like this.  Peter?”

Peter’s only response was to snuggle deeper into the covers and press a soft kiss to my nipple before going to sleep.  

And it was at that moment that my nose began to itch.  Damn!

 

 

 

 


	12. Spunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast in the Café de la Hell. Stiles uses humor as a shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all my reviewers: spoonring, lollismack, ryla, molodoo, bre, QTO5, Name’s Nick and BlackNightBunny – I appreciate all your comments. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.
> 
> This was supposed to be a couple of paragraphs long as a lead in to the next part of the story but Peter and Stiles couldn’t stop with the banter and it turned into a whole chapter.

“Okay, I know you said you were going to keep me on a short leash until we left town but this is ridiculous.”  I tugged on the nylon rope that was double knotted around my waist as I lagged behind Peter, slowing down just enough that he had to keep a constant pull on his end to keep me moving up to speed.

Peter was trying to make a point.  Not that I was really upset, in fact I was amused as hell over the silly rope.  It was loose enough that I could easily slip its bonds in just a few seconds and my worry-wolf had added an extra layer of padding before wrapping it around me.  

Peter tends to forget that I can make a good point too.  With a smug smile that he missed I swung wide at the corner and let the rope wrap around an ornate light pole and braced myself for the jolt.  Peter actually pivoted all the way around when he reached his end of the leash, huffing at me with exasperation.  

“Stiles, stop playing.”  He pulled on the rope which towed me a step closer to the pole.  With Peter’s strength he could have easily yanked me into the pole or dragged me down the street but he waited patiently as I slowly untangled myself.  I didn’t hurry.

By the time I sauntered over to where he stood Peter was getting just a little red in the eyes.  “You put me on a leash and I pull your tail.”  I was becoming immune to the wolf eyes.

Pulling me close and tucking his nose into the exposed flesh at my shirt collar he play growled, “You are having too much fun with this.”  I didn’t bother to answer just tilted my head back and enjoyed the feel of Peter pressed against me.  

“We still need to get some breakfast and supplies before we head out.”  Resting his hand at the small of my back Peter herded me toward the café where even in the early morning the sloe eyed humans sat waiting in the windows.  

The first thing I noticed when we entered was that all the humans in the establishment were either kneeling at their Other’s feet or sitting in their laps.  Peter dropped gracefully into the single chair at a small table and stared up at me with twinkling eyes to see what I would do.  

Suddenly what had been a diversion for me was brought cruelly into focus.  I was playing a game, the rest of the humans in this room were living the reality.  The anger was sharp and left an acidic burn in my veins as it flowed through me.  

“Fuck you.” I snarled yanking back on the rope with enough force that it slid through Peter’s fingers allowing me to turn and walk half way to the door before a large grey skinned man grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and threw me back across the small distance I had traveled to Peter’s feet.

“You shouldn’t give them too much freedom.  They get above themselves and start thinking that they are at the top of the food chain again.”  I had a chance to get a good look at the Other as he stalked over to the table.  His skin was thick, forming ridges and cracks down its surface like the sides of a granite rock facing.

“You’re a gargoyle.  Shouldn’t you be frozen in stone or something in the daylight?  Where are your wings?”  I would have asked more questions but Peter’s hand found its way across my face and over my mouth before I could get them out.

“My apologies.  He is new to this and untrained.”  I bit him as he said untrained.

“He has quite a mouth on him.  You might want to do something about it.  Maybe a muzzle.”

Peter leaned back seemingly at ease with discussing me like I was his pet.  He was so going to pay for this when we got out of this hell hole of a town.  “I like his mouth just the way it is.  In fact it is my favorite part of his body.  The things he can do with it are truly amazing.”  

I thrashed out of his grip and stood only to be pulled into his lap his arms wrapping deceptively loose around my waist.  “He has a lot of spunk.  I like that.  Who wants some limp and pathetic thing in their bed?  I like my partners with fire.”  Peter made and held eye contact with the gargoyle as he ran his nails up the inseam of my pants, across my abs and then circling my nipples.  I arched my head back against his shoulder as he continued.  “I want them thrashing beneath me in the heat of passion.  But I guess that’s not everyone’s cup of tea.  I’ll have two of whatever you’re serving and coffee.”  

I watched the gargoyle leave with half lidded eyes.  “So you like my spunk?”

“Yes.”  Peter’s answer was whispered in my ear.  The warm, moist heat making me press my body deeper into his chest.

“Good because if you keep touching me like that you are going to get a handful.”  Laughing, Peter dumped me on the floor and pulled up another chair so that I could sit by his side.  I tried to focus on the absurdity of the situation, using my humor as a shield so that I didn’t have to look at the depths mankind had fallen to in this little town at the end of the world.  

Seeing the pain hidden behind my silly antics, Peter cupped the back of my neck and pulled me close.  “Just hold on a little longer,” he whispered against my lips.  “I will get us both out of here and find you someplace safe.  I promise.”

Nodding I turned my attention to the plate of breakfast slammed in front of me.  It was burned around the edges and slightly raw in the center.  I wonder how much effort went into ruining my breakfast.  Peter’s was perfect and after the first bite I switched our plates.  

Peter looked over a map as he nibble the few edible parts of his breakfast while keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn’t do anything else stupid while in the café.  “If we can leave by noon we should be there in three days.”

Leaving sounded good.  I really didn’t care where we were going or how long it took us.  I just wanted to get away from this town.  Scrapping the plate clean and drinking the last of Peter’s coffee I stood and headed for the door forcing Peter to follow or drop his end of the stupid yellow leash.

“I wish we had never come here, Peter.”

Untying the rope from my waist Peter sighed in agreement.  “Me too.”


	13. Peppercorn

I leaned against the wooden side of an old barn shoulders rounded gently and one foot pressed to the greying slats behind me.  I wish I had a ten gallon hat that I could pull down above my eyes and boots with spurs to spin and chime as I walked.  I wanted to climb the wooden railed fence and pretend I was a cowboy but Peter had told me to wait in this exact spot and not move.   After the last day’s adventure I was more than willing to follow his directions to the letter.

A loud honking bray sounded from behind the barn.  Between the calls of equine fury and splintering wood I could hear Peter cussing a long detailed string of expletives that impressed even me.  Torn between wanting to stay out of trouble and curiosity about what could make Peter cuss like a drunken sailor I managed to wait a couple more minutes before darting around the building and climbing over the three post fence.

Peter was struggling to hold the reins of a large brown mule.  His ears were long, their insides covered with a thick fur that looked soft to the touch and large brown eyes surrounded with enormous lashes.  Pulling back to the end of the lead the mule was tossing and bucking, the mound of packs strapped to his back bouncing as the kicked and leaped sideways across the corral towards me.

“Hey boy is that mean old werewolf scaring you.”  The mule froze, facing me with stiff legs and flagged tail.  “Shhhh, it’s okay.  I won’t let him eat you.”  Moving slowly I scratched my fingers up the center of his head until I could reach his ears. They did feel like silk, soft and velvet smooth.  

“How the hell did you do that?”  Peter sounded out of breath and annoyed.  

“Well, I’ve had lots of practice dealing with jackasses these last few weeks.”  I tossed a smirk over my shoulder at him.  He just walked right into that one.  

I continued to run my hands up and down the mule’s head finding places to scratch that made his ears droop forward and his eyes close to half mast.  Using the lull in mule kicking to his advantage, Peter quickly finished packing up the bundles of our supplies onto our new mule’s broad back.

Pulling the last strap tight Peter turned and handed me a cloth wrapped bundle.  Opening it slowly I found a sleek black compound bow and dozens of arrows.  “I was able to get it at that sporting supply store a couple of blocks over.  No one around here knows how to use it so I was able to get a fairly sweet deal on it.  It doesn’t look like your old one but I was hoping that it would be okay.”

It felt like Christmas or my birthday and part of me wanted to go all girly and jump up and down.  I held that part of me down and settled for a manly hug instead.  “Thank you.  Now I won’t be a ‘kept’ man anymore.  I can make a contribution to the team.”

“I thought you considered your sharp wit and steady stream of sarcasm to be your contribution to the team.”  Pete brushed by me with a smile, his hand running across the curve of my ass as he passed.

“See what I have to put up with?” I asked the mule who continued to look at me with lidded eyes.  “This is why I know we will be the best of friends, Peppercorn.  I’ll kick his ass verbally and you can kick it physically.”

“And I can eat you both.”  Peter’s threat couldn’t be taken seriously when he was pressed against my back kissing my neck as he said it.  Peppercorn on the other hand seemed more impressed, his eyes widened showing a hint of white as he tossed his head a bit and moved further away from my werewolf as I leaned back to get closer.  “Seems the mule has a better survival instinct that you do.”

“Pftt…he just doesn’t know you yet.  Give him a couple of days and he’ll find out you’re just a big softy.”

Peter twisted me around to face him cupping my face, thumb resting on my jawline and his fingers tucked behind my ear.  “Only for you.”  His kiss was long and hard with a little more teeth involved than I really liked but it still made my toes curl and I pressed myself as close to him as I could until a voice cleared behind us. 

“Right.”  Nodding to the grey skinned creature holding the corral gate open, Peter grabbed the lead and headed out.  I followed keeping Peppercorn’s body between me and the gargoyle. 

We were at the outskirts of town before Peter spoke again.  “Why Peppercorn?”

“I went with my second choice because of his color and his spicy kick.”

“Your second choice?

“Well Peter was already taken which would have been the perfect name for a jackass.”

“Do you want me to turn this mule around and take you back?”  It felt good, the way he teased me back, matched me at every turn.  Noticing the warmth in his eyes as he looked back at me, I felt a heat pool deep in my abdomen.  At some point in the last few weeks Peter had become so much more to me than a way to stay alive. Peter was becoming important, but I was left wondering what I had become to Peter.

(***************************************************************)

After two days of trekking through the woods and keeping off the main roads, it started to snow.  The flakes were huge spinning down from the sky to melt slowly on Peppercorn’s lashes and my tongue.  Peter scowled at them and hurried us along.  

“We need to pick up the pace Stiles.”

I was already moving as fast as I comfortable could but I hurried along without complaint.  I knew that us being out in the snow was my fault. If not for my little hang ups about human’s being treated as pets, or slaves, or snack items back in town we could have still been warm and cozy in the hotel.

Peter kept to his usually pattern of ranging ahead, leaving Peppercorn and I to follow his path until he came back to check on us or change our course.  Peppercorn was good company if not a little on the quiet side and I found myself chatting to the brown eyed mule as we traveled.

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to that doesn’t threaten to eat me at odd moments.”  Peppercorn huffed through his nose and bobbed his head as if agreeing with me.  

“Peter should be heading back soon.  This snow is getting deep so we better hope he finds a place to stop soon or you and I will be popsicles.”  Peppercorn planted his hooves in the deepening snow and tossed his head back at the same time that I heard a strange chuffing in the woods.  The mule hopped back lifting his head in a half rear that dragged me off my feet as he backed away.

Using the reins I pulled myself upright I grabbed hold of the halter.  The sound seemed to echo from all directions.  “What the hell is that?”  I asked the white eyed mule.  Peppercorn didn’t answer, just flicked his ears back and forth as he breathed against my winter coat leaving a trail of condensation and snot down the front.  

With a heaving bray Peppercorn swung around, sending me crashing to the snow covered ground, kicking both powerful hooves backwards to meet the tawny colored blur that was leaping towards us.  

The cougar was enormous, easily reaching my waist when standing on four legs.  With its fur on end and snarling as it recovered from the kick Peppercorn had sent its way it looked even bigger.

“Holy fuck!” I grabbed Peppercorn’s reins and ran lifting my knees high over the unbroken snow drifts.  There was a small road not too far back and if we could reach it I was sure I could hop aboard Pepper and hopefully out run the cougar on our tail. 

Just as the road appeared in front of us the cougar leaped onto the back of Peppercorn trying to bring him down.  The heavy packs kept its claws and teeth away from tender mule flesh but the added weight and snarls drove Peppercorn mad and he took off down the road kicking and braying.

Dodging between the frozen caravan of cars, Peppercorn managed to dislodge the giant cat that looked over his shoulder and spotted an easier meal: me.

“Shit, shit, shit!”  I yelled as I ran the opposite direction down the road pulling on the doors as I passed.  “It’s the end of the world and people took the time to lock their doors.  This is seriously fucked up.”  A large blue Kia van was unlocked and I scrambled inside.  The cougar snarled in anger at me through the closed window and I blew a raspberry at it.  

“Better luck next time Sylvester.”

I leaned back in the seat closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath.  I knew that Peter would be able to follow my trail and I hoped that together we could find Peppercorn.  I checked the mom-van, finding a box of crackers in the glove compartment and a small portable DVD player that still had a charge.  The only movies in the van were Disney cartoons but after months of nothing but books Finding Nemo was treat.

Little Nemo was bravely swimming out to touch the boat when I heard the clattering of hooves.  Peppercorn galloped by with wild eyes and a foam flecked mouth.  Knowing the cougar had taken off in the other direction I peered through the falling snow to look ahead on the road.  The van’s height let me see over the tops of the cars in front of me but the snow created a hazy white screen that kept me from seeing too far up the road.  

 Slowly forms took shape moving oddly as they shifted through the cars ahead of me.  I felt the bile rise in my throat as the snow cleared for a second and I got a good look at what was coming my way.  A plague of zombies Peter had called them and I tried to swallow down my terror as they moved in a large pack toward my van.

I ducked down deeper down into my seat trying to keep my breathing shallow and silent.  The first lumbered past my window, its body bloated and discolored.  The second passed by a little closer allowing me to see the way its skin was pulled tightly over the swelling mass of its body, black tar-like substances flowing down from where the skin had split.  Even through the closed window I could smell the stench.

The third one bumped against the passenger side window leaving a putrid smear from its severed arm.  I could see the black areas on its skin where frost bite had frozen the dead flesh.  Unblinking eyes seemed to stare right at me and in a moment of panic I did the unthinkable; I pressed the automatic lock button and alerted them all to my presence.

The skin over their distended fingers split and oozed as the zombies pawed and scratched at the windows to get at me.  Within seconds I could no longer see out the windows, a mass of zombies clawed and scraped at every pane of glass.  The review mirror came off with a pop and the windshield wipers were torn away.  

Black fingers with bone showing through worked at the door’s edges slowly peeling away the rubber that sealed the window to the door.  Spider webs of cracks formed under the relentless assault of the dead.  I slammed my fist onto the horn, blaring out three short and three long blasts in rapid succession hoping that Peter was somewhere within hearing range.  

I pounded the horn until the cracks widened and then I crawled over the divider into the back of the van.  I prayed the prayer of the hopeless; like a drowning man with his last gulp of air, a pilot just before his plane strikes the ground.  “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.”

The passenger side window gave an agonizing whine before turning white with cracks and then shattering inward.  Two zombies pushed their heads through the crack creating a blockade as neither one would back away to let the other through the small space.  Thank God for dead brain cells.

The glass sheared away their flesh as they pushed forward sending black pus and ooze streaming down into the front seat.  I had pushed myself to the very back of the van.  Desperate as the first zombie managed to get an arm inside the van I let out a scream, “Peter!  Peter help!”

I didn’t really expect to be saved.  I expected that Peter would find my gory remains, be briefly pissed that he wasted all that time on me and never got a piece of my ass, and then move on without a backwards glances.  What happened next was beyond all my hopes.

The roof of the van dented briefly along with the clatter of nails and then Peter, in wolf form, was snapping and snarling at the zombies trapped inside my window.  He ripped and tore at their necks using both his teeth and the serrated glass to cut through to the bone.  With a savage jerk he tore the body away from one and then worried at the other until he pulled it from the van and finished it off with a meaty crunch.  

From my position cowering in the back of the van I couldn’t really see much of Peter but I could see the results of his battle.  Two zombies dropped immediately on my left the sounds of flesh being shredded the only hint of their demise.  I saw his head briefly as it popped into view, bore down on an arm and ripped it from its socket.  It got to the point that I couldn’t watch anymore and I tucked myself down on the floorboards and tried not to listen to the growls and wet crunching sounds that came from outside the van.  

And finally there was silence.  There was nothing but the sound of the wind blowing through the open window and I was just about to panic that Peter was out there hurt when I heard the clip clop of hooves on pavement.   I slowly uncurled just in time to have a heart attack as Peter calmly tapped on the glass for me to let him in the van.  I reached forward and pressed the automatic lock before letting myself drop back to the rear.

Tying Peppercorn’s reins to the back bumper Peter quickly slid into the back naked as the day he was born and completely oblivious to the cold.  “Sorry it took so long.  Hope you didn’t mind the wait.”

“Yea, not a problem.”  I waved the half eaten, crushed to crumbs pack of crackers that I still had tightly gripped in my hand.  “I had some crackers while I waited.”

Peter chuckled and moved into the back and sat next to me on the carpeted floorboards.  I managed to hold myself together for maybe thirty seconds before I was throwing myself into Peter’s arms and sobbing like a four year old boy.  Peter didn’t say a word, just held me tight and rubbed his hand in soothing circles on my back while I cried.  

He continued to hold me while I shook and quivered and until my tears stopped and dried on my cheeks.  His body was warm under mine own and smelled like pine trees and snow.  After a while I started to notice how smooth his skin was under my head and the perfect golden color of his skin.  I had heard about bodies having a certain response to near death experiences, but this was my first time experiencing the sensation for myself.  My body suddenly decided that not being dead was a big deal and wanted to have a party to celebrate the fact.  A party with Peter.  

Peter’s chest was hairless until just above his navel where light brown hairs swirled around his belly button before plunging downward and thickening as they reached the juncture of his legs.  My thumb idly traced their trail while my eyes were transfixed on the shape and color of Peter’s nipples.  They were almost the same soft brown color as his hair, perfectly shaped, and displayed on the most delectable pectorals I have ever seen.

I don’t know what came over me, one minute I’m a quivering mess in Peter’s arms and the next I’m attacking his lips, driving my tongue deep as I claimed his mouth.  My hands were everywhere along the long lines of his body but it wasn’t enough, not enough skin.  I needed more, I needed Peter.

I have this brief flash of memory of his face, a combination of shock and amusement, as I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him flat onto the floorboard so that I could straddle his hips.  It seemed like my body was made solely of hands, lips, and teeth and I used them all, running up and down Peter’s body as he spread himself beneath me.  

Damn fabric, damn clothing.  There was just too much between Peter and me.  Fumbling with buttons and zippers, I frantically kissed, stroked and rutted up against Peter. It wasn’t until he took pity on my uncoordinated self and helped that I got anything off my body.  Once I was as naked as Peter I wrapped his legs around my waist and ground my body against his own.

“Peter, please, Peter,” I panted as I pressed my body to his.  Peter took my hand and guided my fingers to his mouth, swirling his tongue around each digit as I keened and mewed.  He guided my hand downward with whispered instructions to my ear that sent sparks flying down my spine and I quickly followed his lead.  By the moans escaping Peter and the way he pressed his hips up against my fingers, I knew I was doing something right.  Peter wrapped his hand, wet and slick with moisture, around my dick and spread his legs wider, lifting his hips and guiding me forward into the most amazing warmth and tightness.

After the first couple of shallow thrusts I let my head drop against Peter’s shoulder, dropping kisses along his collar bone as I asked, “Is this okay.  Peter, please let this be okay.”

“You’re perfect.  Come on Stiles.”  Peter thrust upward, driving me a little deeper into his heat and then I was pounding into him with everything I had.  I could feel Peter starting to stroke himself and I placed my hand on top of his letting them work together until I had to go so that I could grab Peter’s hips and tilt him just a little but more for my last few thrusts before my vision went white, the dust motes taking on rainbow colors and hues that I never knew existed.

Panting I collapsed on Peter’s chest peppering it with kisses as Peter stroked the back of my head and held me close.  After a few minutes of cuddling I could feel the cold starting to seep into my bones.  Picking up a small pink discarded shirt Peter cleaned us both off and kissed me before climbing out of the van.  I watched, brain still mostly off line by the sudden attack of sex in the back of a mini-van, as Peter pulled clothing out of the saddle bags and got dressed.  

Meeting my eyes through the lightly tinted glass he smiled and turned as he wiggled into his jeans so that I had a good view of his naked ass as the jeans slowly slid up his muscular legs.  

I pulled my own cloths on with a little more grace than I pulled them off. Emerging from the van I felt more than a little embarrassed by my behavior.  Shit, I had basically jumped Peter without warning, almost forcing myself upon him.

Peter took one look at my red face and smiled his predatory grin.  Leaning forward he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me flush with his own body, kissing me until I was breathless.  “Not how I envisioned our first time but I am not complaining.  But next time…”

He smile was contagious and I felt my lips echoing its curl.  Blinking I leaned forward to nip his bottom lip. “Next time you will show me how it’s REALLY done?”

Peter pressed me closer, tucking my head against his shoulder and holding me tight.  “Yeah,” he breathed into my ear.  “My thoughts exactly.”

“I can’t wait.”

 


	14. Haven

The storm had finally broke letting the sun push back the clouds and brighten the day.  Four days in a small cave crushed between a pissed off mule and an annoyed wolf had not been a vacation for me but I was alive and not a popsicle.  These days I’m all for taking the small victories.  

But the enforced confinement with Peppercorn and wolfed out Peter had left me covered in dust and fur.  My scalped and skin itched with a ferocity that I hadn’t experienced since my short tenure as a Boy Scout when I fell head first into the biggest patch of poison oak my scout leader had ever seen.  

Memories of his embarrassed babble to my Dad, apologetic and appalled by his inability to keep me from turning into a giant mass of red welts on what was supposed to be a thirty minute hike through the city’s park, still made me smile.  Dad just took in my sticky pink appearance with a knowing sigh and thanked the Scout master for bringing me home.  I don’t think anyone minded when I decided that I could continue on with my life just fine without ‘always being prepared’.

Pushing up my jacket, I ran my nails over my darkened skin leaving streaks of pale flesh behind.  I had never wanted a shower so badly in my entire life.  Scratching my head sent a small shower of dirt to hover around my shoulders.  Filthy, there was no other word for it.  I was filthy and in this weather I had little chance of getting clean anytime soon without risk of catching pneumonia.

A shift in the wind brought new scents to Peppercorn’s discerning nose.  He tossed his head and whuffed into my shoulder which meant that Peter must be nearby.  Peppercorn and Peter had built up a strange relationship over the last week.  The brown eyed mule didn’t kick or bite Peter and Peter didn’t scratch or bite Pepper.  It was like they were the best of buds.

Reaching back to reassure the mule I pushed through the crackling underbrush coming out on the bank of a small stream.  Peter was standing naked in all his werewolf glory in the center letting the water cascade around him as he scrubbed the grime off his skin.

I wasn’t planning on sitting but my legs just gave out and I found myself, mouth agape, on the slightly damp bank watching Peter.  Swallowing the lump and closing my mouth I tried to look as if I was just patiently waiting for Peter to finish his impromptu bath instead of leering at him in a lust soaked haze.  

Who am I kidding; there is no way that I could hide that I was staring at him with lustful eyes because DAMN the man was sex personified.  Peter had his back to me so I could gaze at length on his perfect ass, it was firm and tight and I found myself having to adjust my pants after a couple of minutes of just looking. 

Each drop of water that ran down his back, along the curve of his spine before pooling briefly at the cleft of his ass before dripping in crystalline perfection into the water below, had my complete and total attention.

He turned half way toward me presenting me with a view of his profile.  I let my eyes wander from his strong nose and sensual mouth down past powerful shoulders and an amazing chest that tapered down to a ripple of abs and the hottest dimple above his hips.  The water obscured the best part of my view but I fully enjoyed all that was above the surface of the stream.

Peter caught me in full on creeper stare as he turned to head back to shore.  I think I might have felt a little embarrassed if I wasn’t enjoying the view so much.  Sloshing the last few feet to the shore Peter reached down and helped me to my feet, pulling me in tight for a quick kiss that I immediately took control of and deepened.

The water was cool on his skin but the flesh was warm beneath the drops.  The thin coating of liquid allowed my hands to slide smoothly up and down his skin and I took full advantage of the sensual exploration of his body.  By the time we broke the kiss Peter was covered in muddy brown streaks from where I had touched him, my every caress documented.

“That’s a very satisfied look you have on your face Stiles.”   Peter’s voice rumbled and I reached to touch his throat to feel the vibrations on my fingertips.

“I like having my touch so clearly marked on your skin so that the world can see that I’m the one who gets to caress you, to feel you.”  Stepping back to look again at the dirty smears that clung to Peter’s golden skin I added, “But it’s also like tagging the Michelangelo.  I don’t want to mar your beauty with all that dirt.”

I was going to say more but Peter buried both hands in my shaggy, in desperate need of a cut, hair and kissed me until my brain cells fizzled and fried.  By the time he released me I hardly knew my name much less what I was going to say.

Peter’s smile made me go a little weak in the knees.  I wasn’t his usual smirk or the faux smile that never reached his eyes, this was a true smile making his face light up and taking years off his features.  My heart never stood a chance.  A double thump and a flip and I knew.

“You like the idea that I’m marked as yours?  My little human is a wolf at heart.”  Peter leaned in and nipped my lips before heading back to wash the dirt from his skin.  My handprint, perfectly formed in the reddish brown dirt, rested on the curve of his bottom.

I tried to regain control of my emotions as Peter quickly splashed away the dirt.  The wayward pounding and odd tugs of my heart were almost painful but I pushed the feelings down and away, hiding them from werewolf senses and my own tumbled thoughts.

“Stiles?  Are you okay?”  I had to shake my head to clear the remainder of my traitorous thoughts as he splashed back to shore and dressed.  

“Just wishing I could wade in there and get clean myself.  At this point it would almost be worth the pneumonia and certain death to get clean.  It’s just not fair that you can take freezing cold baths in the middle of the freaking winter and not even get cold.”

Peter’s lips curled in a satisfied grin.  “I was cold but feeling you looking at me, your eyes on my body, that made me so hot.”  His eyes did a slow inventory of my body, slowing panning from my lips down to increasing growing problem.

“OH MY GOD!  You are evil.  Like we can do anything out here in the middle of nowhere when it is cold enough to freeze my balls off.  Stop flirting!”

Peter’s only reply was a chuckle.  We walked side by side with Peppercorn trailing behind for a couple of miles before Peter started to range ahead.  We had found that this was the best way for us to travel.  With his werewolf speed, Peter could cover more ground than me and he could locate any dangers and be back to warn and protect me before I came to any harm.

He turned and waved just before he was completely out of sight and I let out the sigh I had been holding in since the stream.  “I am so screwed Pepper.  It’s not like I just figured out that I like him, I’ve known I was attracted to him from the very beginning.  And I can’t blame it on the sex because even though it was amazing for me it’s still not enough to fall in love with someone over.”

Peppercorn snorted, head tossing briefly as he pulled at the harness.

“Right!  I know.  That is my point exactly.  I am pretty sure that I am in love with him.  Like ninety – nine percent positive.  God!”  I stopped and let my head rest against Peppercorn’s shoulder.  “I am so very, very screwed.”

Pepper arched his neck and nibbled at my hip as if to offer comfort.  “What do you think I should do?  Should I tell him how I feel?”  Pepper snorted again and shook his head sending his short Mohawk of a mane undulating down his neck.  “You are so right buddy.  He would either laugh or keep quiet about the whole thing and then it would be uncomfortable.  And then he’d leave.  Fuck!  I am so screwed.”

Pepper and I walked along the path left by Peter in the snow until the sun was high in the sky.  The calm flicker of the mule’s ears was my first hint that Peter was approaching.  His off tune hum, Peter tended to favor Lady Gaga, was he way of not giving me a complete heart attack at his silent arrival.  

There had been too many times in the past that he just ‘popped up’ sending Peppercorn into a panic, hooves flying in all directions while I tried to dodge while restarting my failing heart.  His humming was a compromise for the cardiac health of myself and one pissed off mule.

Peter was bounding with excitement as he came into sight, eyes bright and his perfect white teeth flashing behind his smile.  Within seconds he had me scooped into his arms, swinging me in tight circles while Peppercorn looked on in disgust.  

“I found a place.  It’s safe and close enough to a small town that I can get us the supplies we need for the whole winter.  You are going to love it.”  Cupping my face in his hands he kissed me breathless.  “I’ll leave a trail so that I can get the place warmed up for you, air out the sheets and get rid of that musty unlived in smell.”

With another quick kiss he was off.  I stood, just a little shocked by Peter’s actions, until Peppercorn nudged me into motion with his nose.  “Just remember Pepper, we’re going to love it no matter what it looks like.  If it makes Peter that excited than it is perfect for us.”  

We followed the trail left by Peter who even had time to make a couple of snow wolves holding sticks in their mouths along the path.  I let the laughter that was building up in my chest spill out into the cold winter air as the tension I didn’t even know was building beneath my heart finally loosened.

Peter had found us a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcomed. This story is without a beta so all mistakes that are not caught by spell check are completely mine. Sorry!


	15. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets his nummy treat at last!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank RachelOfCyberia for finding out that a group of zombies is called a vexation. I kind of liked mambo line of death myself but now I know the proper term. WOOHOO! Thanks RachelOf Cyberia this chapter is dedicated to you.   
> Thank you to everyone who has read and left a review on this work. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

A light snow started to fall as I followed the deep trail Peter had left for me.  After a few miles of walking I could smell smoke carried by the cold winter wind.  It had been almost a week since I had last smelled the acid burn of wood smoke and I mentally crossed my fingers that it was from the place Peter found for us to hole up and not something or someone else.  The nervous tremor traveled up my spine.  I might never get over my knee jerk fear of the smell; there have just been too many bad memories.

I was so intent on the smoldering scent in the air that I didn’t notice the road until I tripped over the rough gravel edge.  The smell of smoke was directly ahead of me yet the road traveled left and right.  I paused, uneasy for a second, as I tried to figure out which way to go.

Off to one side was another snow wolf pointing to the left with a tree branch.  Somehow Peter had managed to make the wolf look like it was smiling.  Chuckling under my breath and giving Peppercorn a hard pat on his neck that made a cloud of dust rise up from his dingy coat, I lead the mule off in the direction the happy wolf pointed.  

The lane gently curved and after a few minutes of walking down the gravel road I could see a large red barn in the distance.  It looked like it came straight out of a children’s book on farm animals except for the smoke coming out of a chimney.  I don’t remember any chimneys on the barns in the stories my mother read to me as a child.

The red barn had the classic arch with the stark white trim that ran along its borders.  As I closed in I could see that the whole area was decorated with antiques from old Mobil signs with the Pegasus to ancient Coke bottle coolers that had been turned into storage areas.  There was a hammock, covered in snow, tied between two trees, a picnic table with colorful benches, and an assortment of knick-knacks and cutesy signs all over the front yard.

Peter opened the door with a flourish and a wide smile.  “It’s like some backwater resort for people who want to do the whole ‘living a cowboy’s life’ type thing.  There’s even a scrapbook where people wrote about themselves and their adventures they had with their family.”

I tied Pepper’s lead to one of the posts and followed Peter into the barn.  The first floor was one giant room; the kitchen taking up the first third and a living area filling the remaining space.  A huge hearth stood at the end where Peter had placed half a dozen pots in front of the crackling fire.

The kitchen was tight, filled with a refrigerator, an electric stove, and cabinets full of plates and cooking utensils.  Most of the appliances in the kitchen were no longer any use to us but there was an old timey wooden stove in the corner that was being used as a decoration for that extra rustic appeal.  If I could figure out how to make it work we could have real food.  Well, real food if Peter could find any to bring back.  

“I’m going to unload the damn mule.  Look around, make yourself at home.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  Peter was half way out the door before spinning around and pulling me in for a quick kiss.  His hand slid down to cup my ass briefly as he pulled me extra close and breathed in the scent at my neck.  

“Hurry,” was all I could whisper.  I was filthy and my skin itched but if NOW was the time I wasn’t going to let things like personal hygiene stand in my way.  My stomach fluttered with anticipation as my heart lurched within my chest.

To the right, under the stairway that lead to the second floor, was a pair of bedrooms, old fashioned quilts covering each bed, separated by a small bathroom with a claw footed tub.  I sighed wistfully at it as I imagined a long hot soak.  

As I entered the living area I saw that the pots lining the edge of the fire place were filled with water.  There wasn’t enough to fill the tub but there was more than enough for me to finally get clean.  Peter was definitely racking up the good will points.  

Two fluffy, dolly covered chairs and a raw hide couch had been pushed to the sides of the living area leaving a large space covered with a fur rugs and probably a dozen blankets spread out on the floor in front of the fire place.  

Smiling I mused aloud, “What are you up to Peter?”  Shifting my weight back and forth I decided to finish exploring while I waited for Peter to return.  I could feel that wonderful curl of heat pooling low and my body and I needed something to keep my nerves from getting the best of me.  

The flight of stairs took me to a small loft where there were beds lined up against the walls.  Peter was right it was some sort of backwater resort for a large family.  The whole building smelled of cedar which made my nose itch but I was sure I would adjust after a while.  

I was playing with the multitude of knick-knacks that covered every flat surface of the loft when I heard Peter return.

“There’s even a real barn down the path a ways.  I put your damn mule in a cozy stall and even found the ungrateful brute some hay.  Then the little shit tried to kick me.  I swear I would turn him into glue and stew meat if he didn’t mean so much to you.”

Peter removed his jacket and outer shirt as I walked down the stairs.  He moved gracefully around the kitchen lighting oil lanterns to combat the growing darkness.  Empting one of his packs on the table he gathered a dozen candles and started lighting them and placing them around the living area casting the whole interior with a golden light.

By the time he lit the fifth candle I was right behind him wrapping my arms around his waist as he turned to face me.  Tracing the curve of his back I let my hands travel up and down, outlining the ridges of his spine and running my fingers along the top of his pants.  

The remainder of the candles went clattering to the floor as Peter grabbed my ass with both hands and hauled me half way up his body, nipping and sucking his way across my throat.  I dropped my head back as far as possible to give him the best access, wrapping my legs around him for support and the little extra thrill of thrusting against him.

Peter made sure he ground my hips against his body as he walked over to the fire place.  Before I knew it, he had me laid out amidst the blankets as he straddled me with his knees.  God, his smile.  Angles would fall for his smile and my heart leapt within my chest.  

“Peter,” I moaned, thrusting my hips upward.

“Shhhhh!”  Peter placed his hand on my gyrating torso holding me to the ground.  “You wanted a bath.  I’m going to give you one.”

“God, you are going to kill me.”  I wiggled under his hand but werewolf strength trumps horny need every day.

Nimble fingers made quick work of my flannel and I sat up slightly to help when Peter pulled off my tee-shirt and flung the rancid rag across the room.  It was so caked with dirt and filth that I was surprised when it didn’t just stand on its own.  

Sliding down my body, fingers trailing across my chest as he went, Peter untied and slowly slipped my boots from my feet.  His nails made a rasping sound as he dragged them up the seam of my jeans before popping my button and releasing the zipper.  With one slow pull he had my jeans and my shorts pooled around my ankles and I felt the cool barn air on every inch of my exposed skin.

I felt myself hardening and held back my need to cover myself and just let Peter see exactly how he made me feel.  His eyes roamed the plains of my body, a sexy curl forming at the corner of his lips that caused my body to twitch in reaction.  He reached for me with one hand and I lifted my hips in a blatant invitation but his just gripped my hip and said, “roll over.”

Hell if it kept him touching me I would roll over, sit up, speak and play dead.  

The crotch of his jeans pressed against my ass as he leaned forward, back pressing into my shoulders, to grab one of the wash rags that rested next to the many water filled pots.  

There was the sound of water droplets on metal and then Peter was running a warm cloth over my shoulders and down my back.  He dampened my body thoroughly from the back of my neck the swell of my ass before lathering a bar of soap in his hands and covering me with suds. The soap added a sensual glide to his movements and his thumbs found every tight muscle and worked the tension from them.  

By the time he rinsed me clean and started on my arms and legs I was a giant puddle of goo on the floor.  Usually my mind is going a thousand miles a minute, unable to stop the flow of images and thoughts that pop randomly.  But as Peter ran his hands over my body, flipping me over as he finished my back, my brain remained strangely silent, relaxed and allowed me to just **feel**.

Once he had me lying on my back he started at my feet and worked his way up.  He cleaned ever crevice of my body from the tender folds of my skin to the hard surface of my chest.  By the time he reached my head I felt I was about to explode from his touch alone.

I keened as I leaned upward to capture his lips with my own.  “Peter, Peter, please!”  I thrust my hips against his jeans with each syllable.  

Peter scooted back gathering up a couple of towels and rolling them together.  I was already lifting my hips when he smiled and pushed them back down, placing the roll under my shoulders so that my head titled gently back.

“We aren’t finished with you bath yet, Stiles.”

“Damn it.  I might be finished before you’re finished and then where will we be?”  The damn smug bastard just chuckled and left me humping air.  

A large shallow bowl was placed under my head and Peter started washing my hair.  Warm water poured over me as Peter raked his nails across my scalp making my toes curl.  Holding my head up with the crook of his arm, Peter switched bowls and then rinsed until he was satisfied I was squeaky clean.  

Removing both the bowl and the rolled towels he sat next to my head and continued to card his fingers through my hair.  I lay in a boneless heap under his touch. “Want me to tuck you in bed?”

“Hell no!”

“Good.”

I must have blinked because one second Peter was completely dressed and the next it was just the smooth expanse of his skin on mine.  His chest was toned and sculpted, not overly muscled but had that perfection of tone that takes your breath away and begs for your touch.  Light brown hair started to form a trail downward at Peter lower abdomen.  I was able to run my fingers through the fine hairs as he straddled my hips, leaning forward to nibble and nip his way across my collarbone and throat.  

My hands clutched at his shoulders as he worked his way lower pausing to worship each new part of my body as he came to it.  Pressing his nose to the thick tangle of hair between my legs he pinched and twisted my nipples until I was frantic with need.  

“God, Peter. Please, please, please.”  My begging trailed off in a wordless moan of pleasure as he took me into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head briefly before taking me down to the root.  My hips pumped widely as he sucked until he grabbed my hips and pulled them upward, pressing me tightly to his mouth and keeping me still.

The slick feel of a finger at my entrance brought me back to my senses for a split second.  “Where’d you find the lube?”

Peter let me slip out of his mouth with a pop, a line of saliva trailing from his lips to my tip and smiled at me.  “I’ve had it for quite a while now.  It’s just never been the right time.”

A snarky comment on him being a total romantic was on the tip of my tongue as I felt his first finger breach me and then all I could manage to say was a guttural moan as I thrashed back and forth and fisted the blankets that covered the floor.  

By the second finger my voice had re-booted and I was able to form words.  “God, there Peter.  Don’t stop, Peter.  God Peter.  Please, please.  OH FUCK!”  Right, see, I was forming words.

Peter had my lower body almost sitting in his lap, one hand buried in my ass and the other wrapped around my dick while I lay spread out on the floor, legs spread and covered with a fine sheen of sweat, as I begged for “more, harder, there please there”.  He added a third finger that burned, making me whine and pull away, until he curled his fingers and my world became filled with fireworks of the 1812 Overture persuasion.  

“We need some fucking canons to go off.”  Peter gave me a confused smile and pulled away leaving me empty.  “Noooo,” I whined before he kissed me silent, hands lifting my hips and changing my position, lifting one knee until it rested on his hip. “OH!  Okay, yes, now is good, really good Peter.”

There was a fullness, a slight burn but in all the right ways, and the long slide as Peter filled me up.  “Okay?”  He asked running his thumb across my cheek bone.  I could barely breathe much less form a coherent thought to answer so I just nodded and bucked beneath him.

And the rest, the rest was just a series of sensations; his body undulating above mine, slowly picking up speed until he was slamming into me so hard that I scooted across the floor until I was braced against the fireplace.  The room was filled with my cries of pleasure interspersed with demands for “more, harder, faster, God Peter, don’t stop.”

I came first, a white haze burning across my vision as he pumped his way through my climax, finding his own with a red eyed growl.  He froze for a moment, head thrown back, hands clutching my hips so tightly that I would wear his bruises for days and then he looked at me.  I was a look I had never seen in his eyes before, possessive and something else.

“Stiles,” he growled before covering my rapid pulse with his lips sucking my skin into his mouth and biting gently with teeth that were no longer human blunt.  “Stiles,” he whispered again as he kissed me, pulling me up into his arms to cradle close.  

We lay in front of the fire until the log was almost embers and Peter was forced to replenish the fuel to keep my weak human self from freezing.  Lifting me up he carried me to the closest bedroom and deposited me in the bed, crawling in beside me and tucking us both under the covers of a flock of country quilts.  I snuggled deep into Peter’s chest, clinging to him as my body drifted to sleep.  The words I held deep in my heart formed on my lips but I drowned them out by kissing Peter passionately.

Peter mock growled nipping at my chin as he flipped me over so my back was pressed against him.  “Go to sleep.  I have plans for you and I want you rested.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.  For the first time since the dead had started to walk the earth I felt safe.  I linked my fingers with Peter’s where they rested atop my stomach.  I closed my eyes, my body relaxing into the warmth, and I felt something different stir with in me, like an old memory bubbling to the surface. The feeling was familiar like a face to which you just can’t place the name.  I knew this.  I remembered this.

And then it hit me.  It felt like home.


	16. Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh...It's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just don’t know about this chapter. I have been fighting with it for almost a week now. I can’t get it the way I want it but I can’t just move on either…so enjoy …. Or not. At this point I just need to let it go. Fly free crazy zombie/werewolf chapter, fly free. (and in my mind it flies right into the window of an 18 wheeler)

The bunkhouse was a perfect place.  Aside from the smell of cedar that I became accustomed to after the first hour and the hordes of kitschy knick knacks, it was more than I could ever have hoped for. By the end of the first day a small herd of horses, coats ragged and unkempt, trotted into the yard neighing and pushing at me as if I was a long lost friend.

“Well crap,” snarled Peter in his unserious snarly voice.  “I’m sleeping with the horse whisperer.”

“Neigh.” I laughed over my shoulder only to be joined by a chorus of whinnies and one long bray from my new found friends.

“They’re damn lucky I saw a feed store not too far from here.  I’m guessing you want to keep them too?”

Peter wore a frowning face but his eyes twinkled in the late morning sun.  “I don’t want to keep them but if they want to stay, I’m not averse to letting them keep Peppercorn company.”

“Right,” Peter huffed as he kissed the back of my head.  Pepper immediately let out a challenging bray that was quickly echoed by furious whinnies and snorts as my new found herd of friends tried to warn off the big bad wolf.  “Fuck!” But I could hear the humor in his voice.

“Maybe later after you get back with the horse chow.”  My sass got my ass smacked along with a kiss that had me clinging to Peter and trying to strip him bare.

“Hmmmm.  Maybe later after I get back with the horse chow.”

“Jerk!”  All I got in response was a happy chuckle as Peter led Pepper off toward what was left of the town.

While Peter was gone I prepared a little surprise of my own.  I had been holding on to something he said for over a month now and today, yeah today was the day I was going to make his fantasy come true.

I still remember that night back at the Other’s town with a mixture of horror and complete and utter embarrassment. I had done a fairly good job of making myself look like an idiot but Peter not only stuck with me through my less than stellar moments, he seemed to enjoy them.

One thought made that warm curl take over my lower body; well two if you count the whole “mine” part of the evening because, damn, that had been so hot.  No, what I remember most is the look on Peter’s face when he said he wanted me to ride him.  

Hell yeah!  Giddy-up cowboy!

Now my seduction techniques are seriously lacking.  I could count them on one finger, yeah not that one, if I included my mad fumbling in the back of the van.  I’d love to think it was my suave moves that got into Peter’s pants but even my ego called bullshit on that one.

I set up the candles all around the larger bedroom that we had picked as our own, waiting to light them until I saw Peter coming down the lane with Peppercorn.  I turned the covers down, pulled out the small partly used tube from the side drawer, and pulled on my cleanest outfit.

Which I then removed.

I thought about meeting him on the porch completely naked but figured with the amount of snow on the ground I wouldn’t look that impressive by the time he came around that final curve of gravel.  Blue and frozen was not a good look on me.

My second option was on the bed waiting for him.  I flopped down on the mattress and tried to figure out what would be the best “sexy come hither” pose as I waited.  And waited.  And waited.

There are four hundred and sixty-two nails in the ceiling of our bedroom.  Yeah, it was a long wait.  I didn’t quite keep my eyes open for all of it.

The next thing I knew Peter was straddling me, running his tongue up my body from my navel to the tip of my chin in one continuous stroke.  I arched back to give him the best possible angle to continue his assault on my skin.

“I wanted to surprise you.”  My hand curled around the back of his head and I pulled him in for a kiss.  “I had a whole seduction scene planned out.”

“Stiles,” he laughed sending a warm puff of air skimming along the fine hairs above my belly.  “Consider me seduced.”

“I wanted to make you fantasy come true.”

“Hmmmm…you got me blond bimbos and whipped cream.”

“Asshole!”  Letting his head fall back, Peter laughed loud and deep.  It was one of the most carefree sounds I had ever heard him make.  My heart did its double beat as the words I wanted to say fought at the edges of my lips to spill out into the open.  I held them back not wanting to jinx this moment, not willing to face the possibility they wouldn’t be returned.

“How do you want me Peter?” I asked trying to sound as desperate for him as I felt.  I loved the feel on his touch, the way his tongue traced each plain of my chest, the stroke of his body as it entered mine.  God, I just loved HIM.

There was a look of confusion in his eyes for just the briefest of seconds before his mouth split open in a wide grin with a hint of fangs and a flash of red glow in his eyes.  

“I want you to ride me, your head thrown back and the only sound leaving those delicious lips of yours is my name as I pound up into you until you come from riding me alone.”  

“Me too.  I want that too, Peter.”

Kissing a partly wolfed out, horny werewolf was a new and arousing experience.  Peter’s eyes stayed a wild red as he licked and gently nipped his way into my mouth, tracing every contour, before moving down my body.  I could feel the sharp points of his fangs but they only etched across my skin with the finest of caresses.  

His claws left trails of reddened lines across my flesh that fell just on the right side between pleasure and pain.  I arched my back, exposed my throat, and splayed my legs in invitation.  By the time Peter worked his way to my hips I was a trembling mass of overly stimulated nerves; my body tingled and the most coherent sound to leave my mouth was a mangled ‘yes’ as he slid his tongue over my slit and took me deep. 

You would think that I would be worried with fangs as sharp as Peter’s near parts as sensitive as those.  Yeah, maybe, if there was anything left upstairs that COULD think at that point.  

When I felt his first finger pressing against me I lifted my hips, thrusting to meet him.  The lube had barely begun to warm inside my body as I begged for a second.  After that I was a twisting gyrating bundle of need.  I fought my way off the mattress, pushing Peter until he was prone on the bed with me straddling his hips.

“Peter, you fucking amazing.” I breathed into his mouth as I kissed him while letting him guide me into position.

“Stiles,” came his broken reply as he thrust shallowly up into me.  Through half-lidded eyes I watched as he unraveled beneath me, came apart under my hands and hips as I lifted and lower myself, driving him a little deeper with each push.  

Peter’s wolf features melted away like the last snow in the heat of the approaching spring.  Human eyes met mine with a vulnerability he had never shown before.  His fine fingered hands clutched my hips and drove me down on him with increasing speed as he thrust up into my body with barely contained werewolf need.

I let my head drop back, curved my spine just a fraction and with the next thrust saw stars as Peter found that perfect angle.  Everything, every pour, cell, and molecule of my body tightened and I managed a desperate “Peter!” as I came. 

It took a while for the stars to clear and for me to relearn how to breathe.  Blinking away the last darkening nova I found Peter leaning over me, a tender smile gracing his handsome features. 

“I…” Teeth clicking together, I stopped myself just in time.

“You?” Peter questioned as he pulled me closer and tucked me into the curve of his body.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”  Good save I congratulated myself.  Pats on the head all around.

“How about now?” I could feel Peter’s length against my back.  

“Werewolf stamina…gotta love it.” I laughed as he rolled me back over and claimed me again. 

 


	17. Alone

I had two days of almost perfect bliss.  There was a soft bed to sleep in, plenty of food to eat, and incredible sex.  Peter had been patient, waiting until I was finally ready and was now reaping the benefits.  Hell, I was reaping too at every opportunity.  

On the third day I woke with a scratch in the back of my throat, just the smallest of itches.  I didn’t let it stop me from kissing Peter awake.  He was ticklish down his side, I had discovered, and licking and nipping my way down the smooth line of his side, taking my time as I reached each rise of rib to kiss and taste his skin, was becoming my favorite morning ritual.

Peter moved with a speed that defied human logic.  He shouldn’t be able to go from wiggling and twitching under my hands and teeth to on top of me, legs straddling my hips and hands pinning my wrists to the bed in less time it took me to gasp out his name.

“Peter!”

“What did I tell you about tickling me?”

“That I better be prepared to pay for it later.  Is it later yet?”  I let my hips roll upward brushing along the inside of his thigh until we were pressed together.   “I definitely think it’s later.”  I tried to capture his lips with my own from my prone position but Peter stayed teasingly out of reach until I practically begged.

I splayed my legs out in blatant invitation, undulating under him in the hopes of finding some friction against his body.  Peter let me stew in frustrated sexual need for a couple of seconds before taking mercy on me and kissing me senseless.  By the time my brain came back on-line he was deep within me and thrusting wildly.  

“Come for me, Stiles.” He panted.  “Come for me now.”  Yeah, he didn’t have to tell me twice.  I came.  I came completely apart and if he hadn’t held me tight as the tremors shot through my body I think I would have dissipated into a million pieces.  

I covered my secret declaration by biting into his shoulder but his stupid werewolf hearing picked up on something.  “What did you say?”  His eyes were serious as he leaned over me, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone.  

I couldn’t lie but I couldn’t bear to tell the truth.  So I settled for the next best thing; A Truth.  Not THE Truth but something close enough.  “You’re it for me, you know.  There will never be anyone else.”

Peter pulled back minutely.  If I hadn’t been pressed skin to skin with him I would never had noticed.  His eyes registered shock for a brief second before he washed it away with humor and sarcasm.  “Of course I’m it for you.  I’m just surprised it took you so long to realize it.”  He smiled and kissed me before getting out of bed.  “I’m going to try to made biscuits with the flour and powdered milk I found.  Prepare to be amazed.”

I didn’t let it hurt me.  I had known that my feelings were a one way street only.  At least with his gentle let down I could still pretend.  Throwing off the covers I got dressed in a bit of a daze not even feeling the bitter chill in the air, it matched the ache in my chest.

The biscuits were done by the time I left the room.  They were fluffy and tasted divine with a spoonful of raspberry jam that Peter had managed to find on one of his trips into town.  I ate in relative silence, for me that is, and then gathered the tins to wash.

From the corner of my eye I watched as Peter started to say something, mouth open to let the soundless words escape, only to pull back and stop each time.  I couldn’t stand there and watch him try to come up with a way to let me down easily.

“I’m going to go say hi to Pepper and the herd.”  Grabbing my coat and tossing a wave and a smile over my shoulder I hurried out the door to find my four hoofed friend.  

Peter found me later at the horseshoe pit that had slowly emerged as the snow melted away.  Pepper stood at my shoulder as I tossed the horseshoes across the short distance toward the iron stake at the other pit.  It hit the dirt and rolled, clinking softly as it came to rest.  Pepper snorted as if he was criticizing my form and followed me as I went to pick up the horseshoes for another round.

“Can I join the two of you?”  I handed over the set of horseshoes without saying a word.  Peppercorn laid back his ears and bared his teeth in Peter’s direction.  Peter, in a show of werewolf maturity, let his eyes flash red and bared his own fanged teeth.  Pepper snorted a wet haze of mule breath in response. 

I ignored the elephant in the room and played horseshoes with my werewolf and grumpy mule until the sun was high in the sky.  The low rumble of my stomach was our cue to stop for the day and eat some lunch.  

It’s amazing how fast you can go downhill.  I was fine during the game, depressed and pissed, but otherwise okay.  By the time lunch was finished my head was pounding and I could barely keep my eyes open, bright flashes of light bursting into pain laced arrows that stabbed into my mind.  

“You should go lie down,” Peter suggested as I tilted alarmingly to the side of my chair.  He led me to the room, tucked me under the covers and pulled the small curtain to block the light before sitting down next to me.  “You’re hot.”  His hand raked through my sweat damped hair.  “I’ve never really spent that much time with humans.  I knew you could get sick but I’ve never had to deal with it.  I don’t know what to do.”

“Just a cold,” I wheezed.  “I’ll chug some Nyquil and it will be fine.”  I totally ignored the fact that we didn’t have any Nyquil or anything else and rolled over, pulling the covers up over my head. 

Peter stayed there for a while stroking my back in silence.  I was mostly asleep when he left, just aware enough to notice the shift in the mattress before I feel into a dream filled sleep.  

I tossed and turned, fever soaked and nightmare filled, for the rest of the afternoon and all through the night.  Peter was there, cool rags pressed to my face and chest, his worried mummers filling my ears but never registering as words.  My world had narrowed to the pain in my head and the labor of getting enough air through stuffed nasal passages and a mucus filled chest.

There was no spill of morning light to wake me and I slept until the pressure of my bladder along with the emptiness of my stomach drove me into conciseness.  After visiting the modified bathroom that Peter had fixed, I made my way to the small kitchen.  There were a few left over biscuits wrapped in cloth that I devoured.  

Looking around, I noticed for the first time how quiet the bunkhouse had become.  “Peter,” I called out the front door only to be cut off by my own coughing as my body tried its best to hack up one of my lungs.  I was hanging onto the door frame, my weak knees refusing to support my full weight, by the time I was finished.  Peppercorn stood at the edge of the porch with a curious expression on his mulish face.  

“Hey Pep.  Where’s the big bad wolf?”  Peppercorn flicked an ear in my direction and then away.  Sliding my feet into the boots left on the front step and wrapping my coat around me I staggered out onto the front lawn.  “Peter!”  I called again.  “Peter?” The fear I felt made my voice sound high and tight.  “Peter!” I cried one more time before collapsing onto the steps.

He had kept his end of the bargain and I, finally, had kept my end as well.  I was alive, fed, and someplace safe and Peter had gotten what he wanted.  There was no need for him to continue to tie himself down to an overly talkative, hyper human. 

Peppercorn rested his nose on the top of my head while I cried.


	18. As Happy as a Zombie Apocalypse Gets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a bit gory - you have been warned.

I don’t know how much time passed.  I was sick both in body and in heart and retreated back to the bed that still carried the scent of Peter in its blankets and sheets.  I burrowed under, surrounding myself with its warmth and smell as I tumbled back into a cold induced, uneasy slumber.

It was Peppercorn’s rasping bray that pulled me back.  The sound echoed through the bunkhouse and griped my brain in a vice like grip.  God, I wish that mule came with a mute button.  

On wobbly legs I went to investigate what had caused my mule to make those awful noises.  Opening the door I was blinded by the bright afternoon sunlight glinting off the newly fallen snow.  Now that I was on my own, finding enough firewood to keep me warm would be my job, along with all the other jobs that Peter used to do with ease and a smile.  

My heart felt as if it was being pulled apart and I pressed my fist against my chest as if I could stop the pain.  

Peppercorn stood in the middle of the yard, feet braced apart and ears pointed forward.  He let out another honking bray as his tail flagged upward.  “Shut the fuck up you stupid mule,” called a familiar voice.

Barefoot and coatless, I found myself halfway down the road before I even started to register the cold.  Fuck!  I didn’t care.  “Peter!”  His eyes widened and he opened his arms just in time as I flung myself into them, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing him franticly.  “You came back!”

“Always,” he whispered kissing me back.  

“I thought you left me.”  I felt the tears on my cheeks and didn’t care.  All I cared about was that Peter was back and I wasn’t alone.

“Oh course I came back, idiot.  I just went to find you some medicine.  Werewolves don’t get sick so I had no idea what to do to make you better.  I couldn’t just let you suffer.”  Looking at my tear streaked cheeks, he added, “Damn, Stiles.  I left you a note.”

“I didn’t see a note.”  My words were muffled into the press of Peter’s neck as I clung, monkey like, to my wayward wolf.

“It was on top of the biscuits.  Have you eaten since I left?  Damn it Stiles!  Have you eaten?”

Peter didn’t wait for an answer, just carried me quickly to the bunkhouse dragging the horse along behind him.  We were up the stairs and I was being tucked back into bed before the door had a chance to slam behind us.  

“I brought back some of everything I could find.  Let me get it and you can tell me what you need.”  He turned toward the door, stopped and came back to the bed.  Kissing me, he pulled my body close and held me tight.  “I would never leave you Stiles, never.”

He was back a few minutes later with an arm full of medicine.  He had everything from Nyquil to gas relief.  “Did you clean out every store in town?”

“I have more on the horse.”  He looked so worried that I had to smile, all my worries of the past few hours washing away leaving only a slight feeling of being a complete and total idiot behind.

“Let me have the orange stuff.  See if you brought back something that says chest congestion and that will be a great start.”

A little while later I was cocooned in front of the fire with Peter curled against my back.  He had panicked a little when he read the ‘every four to six hours’ dosing instructions and realized we didn’t have a clock.  He found one in an abandoned house down the road and had me on a tight schedule.  

I could breathe through my nose, my congestion was gone, and my heart felt whole again.  Peter pressed soft kisses to my forehead to check for fever.  I smiled up at him and tried to pull him into a deeper kiss but he held back.  

“We need to talk.”  And just like that my heart was being pulled apart again.  

“You know that is never a good way to start off a conversation with someone you are sleeping with.”  I tried to hide my sudden flare up of pain but Peter must have caught a whiff of my panic.

“I said I would never leave you and I won’t. “  He sighed and ducked his head against my shoulder.  “There are humans moving into the town.  I ran into them as I was looking for your medicines.  They said that you are more than welcome at their settlement.”

What Peter left unsaid hung between us with silent menace.  “But not you,” I swallowed.  “I’m welcome but not you?”

“This would be a good home for you Stiles.  With your own kind, enough of them that you would be safe.  They have supplies with them to start a real life here, from seeds to live stock.  You could start over here with them.”

“It wouldn’t be a home without you Peter.  And, hell, we were here first.  They can’t make us leave.”

Peter sighed and nipped the skin below my ear.  “There are quite a few of them.  They are well organized and armed.  Once they move into town I will no longer be able to get the supplies we need and in time they will most likely make me leave.”

It was like the Others town all over again.  I just wanted someplace where we could both live in peace.  But barring that, I would take just staying with Peter.  “How soon do we need to leave?  I need a couple of more days to recover.”

“I don’t think they will try anything soon.  We have a while yet.”  Peter stood and scooped me up.  “It’s bed time for you.”  With a smile he carried me to bed and crawled in beside me.  The warmth of his body combined with the Nyquil quickly soothed me to sleep.  

 

 

 

 

****************************************************************

 

 They didn’t give us any trouble for almost a month.  I was well over my cold and feeling like my normal self.  Peter on the other hand was tense and grumpy, constantly looking down the road for intruders on our land. 

 

It was the second night of the full moon when we realized our time here was up.  Peter went for his usual run, his tawny fur shining in the moon light.  I stood on the porch and watched him go, listening for his howl as he called back to me periodically. 

 

I was wrapped like a giant burrito in multiple layers of blankets, laying sideways on the porch swing when I heard the first shot.  Others followed, sounding like the pop of firecrackers on the fourth of July. 

 

I ran out into the middle of the yard, turning in circles as I tried to find the direction the shots were coming from but the echoes made it impossible to get my bearings.  Seconds later Peter was tearing into the yard at full speed, his fur matted with dirt and twigs.

 

I flung myself on my knees in front of him clutching his furry body close.  “We’ll leave at dawn.  Get changed and start packing while I go get Pepper.”

 

Peter let out a soft whine but headed to the house.  I few moments later, and human formed once again, he called out, “I’m sorry this didn’t work out for you, Stiles.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.  You are all I need.”  I turned to smile at him over my shoulder but he was already standing behind me.  Damn werewolf speed.  It will give me a heart attack one day.

 

Peter pressed his hand to my heart.  “You really mean that?”

 

“Of course,” I replied with a kiss.  “Get your furry ass in gear.  I don’t want some asshole using it for a fur rug.”

 

The sun was just a hint on the horizon when we left the bunkhouse.  Peppercorn walked with his head pressed to my spine and would double step and kick every so often, his heels flying toward Peter’s head as the werewolf made his usual death threats involving stewed mule meat and glue. 

 

Sigh.  It was good to be back on the road again. 

 

At least it was good for a couple of days.  And then my world almost ended. 

 

“A vexation,” Peter whispered.

 

“Huh?”  I was half asleep as I walked leaning against Peppercorn, just aware enough to put one foot in front of the other. 

 

“You asked me once what a group of zombies was called.  It’s called a vexation.”  I opened my mouth to ask why he would bring that up now but my question was answered by the shuffling forms that crested the hill in front of us.  Not since the first days of the zombie infection had I seen them in such numbers.

 

We were so fucked. 

 

Peter slashed the ropes holding the packs to Pepper and let them drop.  With one arm he grabbed and lifted me on the mule’s back.  “Run, run and don’t look back.  I’ll lead them away from you.”  He looked at me for just a moment, just really looked at me.  Leaning up he kissed me like he was saying good-bye. “Go!” he screamed slapping Peppercorn on the ass.  “Run!”  And Pepper took off, his head pressed forward and legs flying over the pasture grass as we left Peter to face the vexation alone.

 

I let Pepper run, stretched flat out on his back with my fingers buried in his Mohawk of a mane until I could feel the flecks of his spittle hitting my face.  That’s when I stopped. 

 

I stopped running. 

 

Pulling Peppercorn’s reins, I yanked his head around, forcing him to a bouncing, stiff legged stop.  I was sick of running.  I had run and left my friend behind to be eaten.  I had run when my father told me only to lose him on the bloody city streets.  I was sick of running.  Yes, running meant living but was I really living if I was all alone?  Was another day of breathing worth losing someone that I loved?

 

No.

 

No.  No more running.  I turned Pepper back around and kicked him into a gallop.  We thundered until we found the first hints of Peter’s fight.  Zombies littered the ground, torn and decapitated, a few random bits still trying to drag themselves along.  I dug my heels into Pepper’s side urging him faster until his sides were slick with foamed sweat.  Ahead there were a few lumbering zombies, their paces slowed by the enormous wounds and shattered limbs left by an enraged werewolf.  I was fumbling for my bow while trying to slow Pepper down but the stubborn mule refused to listen.  Instead he grabbed hold of the bit, yanking the reins free of my grasp and doubled his speed.  He bounced twice like a drunken kangaroo and spun, hind legs flashing and kicked the zombie in the head.  The moist hollow sound was all I really needed to hear to know that we would have one less zombie to deal with today.

 

Finally pulling my bow free I took aim at the zombies ahead of us.  Arrows whizzed through the air dropping the shambling forms like so much rancid, dead meat.  Anyone I missed Pepper mowed down with an equine fury, pounding at them until his hooves were soaked in dark brown gore. 

 

The land sloped downward creating a small bowl shaped indention.  At the bottom, bracketed by a few trees, laid Peter.  Two zombies had him down, one tearing the flesh from his calf while the other gnawed at his shoulder.  Four more were just feet away from joining the feast. 

 

I must have yelled.  I don’t remember yelling but my throat was sore for days afterwards so I must have really been screaming.  Pepper ran down the closest zombie, its body disappearing under a rain of teeth and hooves.

 

I slid off his back and used my bow as a blunt weapon, bashing at the heads of the remaining zombies until they went down, their skulls a misshaped mass on the ground before me.  Even then I kept pounding, pounding away until there was just a smear where their heads should be and I could no longer breathe through my tears. 

 

Peter was lying so peacefully, he had never looked so at ease, even when he slept.  The gentle bowl of earth seemed to cradle him as a light wind ruffled his hair.  I crawled the last few feet that separated us and pulled his head into my lap.  His hair was so soft as I ran my fingers through its thick waves.  I didn’t realize I was crying until my tears started to pool on his eyelids and I gently wiped them away.

 

“Hey, don’t worry.  Everything will be okay.  You know the bunkhouse isn’t too far away.  We can stay there together.  There’s the fence line off to the west, the one covered with what you thought were weeds.  Its honeysuckle.  I’ll bury you there and during the spring and summer you’ll find it’s the most amazing smell.”

 

Pepper limped up to my side and nosed Peter.  His whinny was soft and questioning.  “I’ll never leave you Peter.  You will never be alone.  I should have told you, I shouldn’t have been afraid.  I love you.  I’m so sorry that I waited until it was too late to tell you.  God, Peter.”

 

I bent over him until our noses touched.  “I love you,” I whispered.

 

“As much as I love hearing of your undying devotion, don’t you think it would be best if you made sure I was dead before you start planning my funeral?” 

 

Peter barely had a chance to finish his sentence before I was covering him with kisses.  He hissed softly as I pulled him up into a tight embrace forgetting about the massive wound in his shoulder in my moment of being deliriously happy.

 

Not wanting to leave Peter in the middle of a vexation of decapitated, shredded, and pounded to mush zombies; I pulled him to his feet and helped him walk as he leaned heavily against Pepper’s side.  Pepper walked slowly with his head tilted back as if to watch out for Peter’s safety. 

 

As we walked I could see the huge divot in the flesh of Peter’s shoulder slowly fill in as he healed.  By the time we found our way to a zombie graveyard free zone, he was no longer limping but was noticeable exhausted. 

 

The shade of a tree was a good place to stop while I cleaned up the quickly closing wounds and replenished the liquids Peter had lost along with so much of his blood.  He managed to finish off about three days’ worth of supplies as well but I knew he needed all the protein he could get in order to heal properly. 

 

The silence between us was a little strained.  Peter didn’t say anything else about my sudden death bed confession and I wasn’t about to bring it up.  I was embarrassed enough, thank you very much. 

 

Washed clean of the blood and zombie gore, Peter had healed to the point where it was just an angry red scar-like ridge of flesh on his shoulder and calf.  Using me as support he pushed himself upright and hobbled over to Pepper.  For once my mule didn’t flatten his ears or bray right in Peter’s face; instead he pushed his nose into Peter’s chest and huffed. 

 

“Glad I didn’t make you glue.”  I always knew they were really the best of friends.  Leading Pepper, Peter backtracked along the zombie smeared road (kinda like the yellow brick but smellier and not as well kept) until he found our packs. 

 

“How long have you know?”  Peter’s voice was nonchalant as he loaded Pepper’s packs, tying them securely.  I contemplated briefly acting as if I didn’t know what he was talking about but decided to just come clean.  I had already seen the worst that could happen; Peter’s death.  Nothing could be as bad as that.

 

“I think I felt it long before the Other’s town but I really knew that day by the river.  I knew I loved you and that I would always love you.”

 

Peter was quiet as he finished with the packs.  I fidgeted and shifted my weight back and forth.  Giving Pepper one last pat on the hind quarters, Peter started to walk with me trailing behind.

 

He started speaking without ever turning to look at me.  “After my family was killed I swore I would never let anyone close to me again, never give someone the power to hurt me the way their deaths hurt me.  And then you stumbled into my life all full of hope and promise in this evil and hell bent world and I couldn’t keep you out.  I tried, God I tried.  But you have gotten under my skin and I will never let you go.”

 

With that I practically skipped my way up to him, linking my arm with his as we walked.  He may not have SAID the words but I heard the “I love you loud and clear.”

 

*************************************************************

 

 In a shabby hotel with a leaking roof, Stiles added the last few lines to his journal. 

 

_It’s the end of the world and nobody gets a happy ending.  But Peter and I, we have as good as it gets in this hell bent world.  The road is long but I take each step knowing that Peter is there to guide, protect or just walk by my side._

 

Stiles closed the book as Peter packed the last of their bags ready to head out on the road once again.  They had spent the last week holed up in a rundown motel, waiting out a wild thunderstorm that had raged for days around them.

 

The connecting rooms they stayed in were the only dry places in the whole hotel.  Peter and Stiles had bunked in one room while Peppercorn had a room to himself. 

 

It’s just as well, Stiles thought.  Pepper snores.

 

“Finished with the writing, Shakespeare?” Peter asked as he walked up behind the younger man.

 

“I just felt the need to leave a record.  I just wanted someone else to know I was here.”

 

Pulling him close Peter kissed his lover.  “I know you’re here.”

 

Stiles smiled and went to finish packing.  Watching the younger man walk away Peter lifted the small journal and read over the last page, his eyes widening at the last bit. 

 

“Stiles?  Does it matter to you?”

 

“Does what matter?”

 

“That I never said it back.”  Stiles looked at the notebook in Peters hand and tried to shrug nonchalantly. 

 

“I know you do.  That’s all that matters.”

 

Closing his eyes, Peter took in a deep breath.  Letting the notebook slide gently back to the small table he stepped closer to Stiles and tilted the human’s head up as he kissed him.

 

“I wish I could make you understand how I feel about you.  If you were a wolf you could smell my scent, hear my heart, and KNOW what you mean to me.”

 

“But I’m just a human.”

 

“hmmmmm.  My human.”  Peter pressed another kiss to Stiles’ lips, heavy and deep.  “To me the words feel so weak, they don’t convey what my soul feels but I love you Stiles.  I love you and I will always love you. “

 

“Oh,” whispered Stiles with a teary voice as he leaned up for another kiss.  Their packing was forgotten as they quickly decided to stay for just another day.   

 

The next morning, the sun finally shining bright, Stiles finished the last of their aborted packing while Peter added something to his journal.  Wandering over Stiles peeked inside.  In Peter’s blocky handwriting was a short paragraph.

 

_I was alone and empty until he came into my life.  He doesn’t understand the power of his heart and that makes me love him all the more._

 

“Too sappy?” Peter asked as he leaned over Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“No, it’s perfect but now I don’t want to leave it behind.”

 

“They’re just words on a paper, Stiles.   From now on I’ll whisper them into your skin every morning and every night.”  Placing the notebook back on the table Stiles turned and kissed Peter again.  Fingers intertwined they headed back out to the road, their travels far from over.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it folks. This is where it ended when I first thought up this crazy idea. I have a few one-shot ideas for some of their future adventures but this the end of the story for now. Thank you for traveling along with Peter, Stiles, and I. I hope you had a good time. 
> 
> Leave a review. They make me smile and do ‘the dorky author’ dance to the amusement of the boyfriend and the cats.


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